


Paging Doctor Jones

by ClockworkSpades



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Doctors AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:30:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkSpades/pseuds/ClockworkSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many things have happened over the years at King's Atlantic Hospital, most infamously the relationship between two certain young doctors. Though between learning and working, no one has had an easy time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_13th December 20X4_

* * *

 

 

“I’m _dying._ ”  
“You’re not dying.”

Matthew’s voice gave away just how disinterested he was. Maybe that was because he was an uncaring, failure of a brother, or maybe it was because he was fed up of hearing the same, regurgitated speech that he’d heard in varying forms every night for the past two weeks. Alfred would have argued he was being unfair, but anyone having to listen to the uninterrupted pining even just for one evening would quickly give in too.

“I might as well be.” Alfred huffed, pressing his face into the cushion only to whine loud enough to completely negate the point of having it there. He was face down on the sofa, a worn and beaten fabric thing that he and his half-brother had dragged across the continent twice between university and internship – and it had seen its fair share of Alfred’s tantrums. Matthew, meanwhile, was stood in their kitchen, attention split three ways between making their dinner – as apparently Alfred was in too dire of a state to cook – his ridiculous brother and a medical textbook. “He’s sex on legs, Matt, he’s literally sex on legs.” He groaned, rolling over onto his back. “…I hope you’re looking up a cure for stupid, unrequited crushes in that book.”

“Of course I am, chapter 3: Diseases of the heart, really stupid crushes that your brother will bug you with when you could be studying.” He ignored the glare he got, by now able to picture the exact amount Alfred’s lower lip jutted out under his top and the exact width of his puffed-up cheeks. It hadn’t changed since they were three. “It says here the first step is to stop being a giant baby.” He did turn then, though in doing so was met full in the face with the cushion the American had until now been using to hide his face in. Matthew only laughed, picking the pillow up as his baby brother stomped over to turn his glare full force on the other.

Alfred hadn’t been like this when he first started his internship, but maybe that was because they had a different head of cardio when he got there. He’d gotten into the course no problem, he’d been valedictorian in his graduation from med school and he was one of the most promising interns they had – and if his elder brother’s success in the same hospital was anything to go by then he definitely had nothing to worry about. But that had been the first five months, the first five months where he’d been flitting about on different people’s services, learning about different specialities and competing in a friendly way with the other interns.

And then their head of cardio had to be replaced.

It had been a normal day, waking up at five and driving in for pre-rounds with Matthew, though they’d been careful to make sure Alfred was in a group of interns not assigned to his elder brother. Though that had been an hour ago, it was now time for what Doctor Hedervary liked to call ‘Question time’, a friendly name for a game in which their scary resident would have no problem kicking her interns to The Pit for getting one question wrong.

“Uhh…Hairy cell leukaemia?”  
“Is that a question or an answer, Jones?” Dr. Hedevary ties her hair up as she asks, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raising in demand for another answer.

“Uh- I mean, answer. Hairy cell leukaemia.” He’s shaking a little, either from the lack of sleep or nerves because he really, really doesn’t want to be assigned to The Pit two days in a row. He got yelled at last time and dropped a packet of blood – not a good move for his reputation.

“Congratulations, Jones, you got every question right.” Alfred visibly relaxes, having been terrified he was going to be sent down with the other three interns that had been sent. “Okay, Vargas, Smith, with me. Jones, I want you to go to room 207, I was asked to send an intern there and you’re the one today.” They go their different ways, Alfred flicking through the chart Hedervary had given him.

The patient was twenty two, already had one heart transplant but this one had failed and they need a new one – fast. He reviewed the information quickly as he made his way to the room, a little nervous about what he was expected to do and whose service he was supposed to be on; He’d only worked with one cardio surgeon in the hospital before, he was old and cranky and he seemed to have a personal vendetta for Alfred from the get-go, he did not want to repeat that. 

The door was open as he approached and when he levelled with the room he found a slim, blond and rather young looking doctor in place of the old, rounding and balding man he’d been expecting, though he was looking at the man from behind. The doctor was talking to the patient, a weary looking young woman who still seemed to be managing to smile despite her situation. Alfred cleared his throat, stepping into the room with the chart in hand. If only he’d known.

The blond man turned, one eyebrow raising as his gaze landed on the American intern, and god Alfred could swear his heart skipped a beat. He was young, though clearly older than Alfred himself of course and dressed in the navy scrubs of an attending, dark eyebrows over piercing green eyes that stared right into Alfred’s own, seeming to say ‘And just who are you—‘. No wait, they were saying that.

“Who are you, exactly?” Lord and he had an accent. “—Excuse me?” Those piercing eyes turned impatient and Alfred quickly realised he’d been staring in silence for a good few moments.

“Uhh—“ He shook his head, stepping into the room quickly with his hand outstretched. “I’m Alfred Jones, the uh, Doctor Hedervary sent me here she said you needed an intern to kiss—assist you.” Well that couldn’t have gone any better.

The eyebrow remained raised, ignoring the outstretched hand and instead taking the chart from the dumbstruck American’s hand. “I asked for a competent intern, the best there was if it were possible, are you sure you’re in the right place?”

The moment of pride from hearing ‘the best there was’ was quickly crushed by the doctor’s following words. “I—Yes, I am. I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t expecting- I didn’t know what I was sent here for.” The Englishman’s gaze flickered away from him, scanning the chart with a quiet ‘hm’, hard to tell if directed at Alfred or the words.

“Well, doctor Jones, what can you tell me about our patient here?”

“Miss Johnson came into the ER five years ago…”

It was only later that Alfred found out the name of the surgeon he was working with; Arthur Kirkland, the new head of Cardiothoracics – ironically fitting as he proceeded to take up all the space in Alfred’s heart in pining for those glaring green eyes. It only took one smile to finally grace those ever-frowning lips of the English surgeon and he was hooked.

“It’s not funny!”  
“Oh, now that’s where you’re wrong, it’s _very_ funny.”  
Alfred snatched the cushion back from his brother, childish glare still in place and accompanied with a huff as he hopped up on the counter. “You weren’t this mean when I was in med school!”  
“You didn’t have a giant crush on an attending in med school.” Matthew grinned, obviously very pleased with himself. “Everyone else thinks it’s funny.”  
“What do you mean ‘everyone else’?” Alfred’s expression turned from angry to horrified, eyes widening. “No one else knows about this but you, don’t they?”  
“I mean ‘everyone else’, stupid. Of course they know, the only person who hasn’t noticed you mooning over your precious Arthur ‘sex-on-legs’ Kirkland is Arthur ‘sex-on-legs’ Kirkland.” Alfred groaned again, a mixture of embarrassment, anger and frustration fuelling the intern’s sound.  
“…You’re not going to tell anyone I called him that, are you?”  
“What kind of a brother would I be if I didn’t?”

Alfred jumped off the counter, hitting his brother with the cushion once more before stomping out of their kitchenette and towards the door of his bedroom. “I hate you.” He threw the couch cushion back onto the sofa as he went, making sure to slam the door behind him.

“Okay, just try to keep your fantasies about Doctor Kirkland in your room please, the apartment’s not soundproofed.” There was a faint ‘oh my god Matthew’ from the other side of Alfred’s door, which only makes the resident laugh because it proved his point far too well. Teasing his baby brother was much more fun than listening to him pining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's that.
> 
> Quick reference for you:  
> Alfred: Intern  
> Matthew: Second-year Resident  
> Elizaveta: Fourth-year Resident  
> (The briefly mentioned) Chiara: Intern  
> Arthur: Attending
> 
> I'm going by what I know of the British medical system, but the story is based in America and if that's different please correct me.  
> I also don't actually have any medical knowledge, or not much, so if you do and notice any discrepancies, again, correct me.
> 
> More characters will be introduced as the story progresses. Drabbles should be added in a relatively chronological order, but some chapters may jump around a bit. For reference always check the date at the top of the chapter.
> 
> This is also very loosely based on Grey's Anatomy in the sense of hospital interactions, and you might notice parallels, though I won't intentionally take plotlines from the show.
> 
> So yeah. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

_10th March 20X5_

* * *

 

The Chief’s office wasn’t exactly an ideal place to eat lunch, but it was the only place Arthur could snack and get work done without being interrupted. Besides the occasional cutting comment from their beloved chief himself, but it wasn’t as if Arthur couldn’t easily deal with his own lifelong friend. However, today the man in question was oddly quiet, which until now Arthur had put down to the fact that the Frenchman seemed just as absorbed in his paperwork as Arthur was in his.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Arthur’s eyes didn’t leave the paper, eyebrows creasing a way that implied confusion despite the fact they both knew perfectly well that he knew what Francis was talking about. “What?” He mumbled around his sandwich, both to annoy his friend and to help make it sound as if he honestly hadn’t been glancing out of the office window into the courtyard every five minutes.

Francis only sighed, cracking his back in a long stretch before he even thought about speaking again. “Now now, Arthur, don’t play dumb with me.” He got up from his chair, giving Arthur the horrible sense of dread that his French friend was about to do something, though he only wandered over to his own bookcase. “We know each other far too well to act like the other doesn’t know when we’re lying. So,” He began again, turning to face Arthur with an expectant gleam in his eye. “He’s cute. _Isn’t he_?”

Arthur looked up from his work, doing his best to maintain that aloof and confused expression even though Francis’ words had been _entirely_ true. “—I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“ _Oh_ , _casse-toi! Arthur Charles Kirkland_ –“  
“ _Pardonne moi?”_ Arthur blinked innocently, always entertained when he could make his best friend swear in his own language, despite the current reason for it.  
Francis’ eyes narrowed. “ _Ta Gueule._ ”

Arthur laughed despite himself, turning back to his charts under the foolish assumption that he had successfully diverted the Chief’s attention. Very foolish indeed.

Francis’ hand slammed down on the paper he was examining, startling the unsuspecting Englishman out of his delusion of safety. “Arthur Kirkland I know you lie to yourself about everything you do every moment of the day but I thought you would at least not lie to me—Nevermind, I take that back.” He added quickly, weary of Arthur’s opening mouth to protest. “My point is, you know exactly who I’m talking about and you’re going to admit it.” Arthur straightened up in his chair, no longer sure he could sweet-talk his way out of this. He cleared his throat, fiddling with the pen in his hand. Francis straightened up too, leaning back on his desk with his arms crossing over his chest. He waited a few, long moments of silence before speaking again. “…Or you could tell me what happened in Londo—“

“Okay!” Arthur cut in hurriedly, glaring at the Frenchman, but he was far more unwilling to tell that story than he was to admit he was attracted to a man eight years younger than he was. “…Alfred Jones is cute.” Francis stayed quiet, content but still looking at Arthur with an eyebrow raised. “—More than cute. He’s handsome. He’s hot. He’s sexy and yes I’ve thought about what it would be like to be dragged into an empty on-call room by him but you can’t judge me for that because you’ve done the exact same thing with half the staff and you didn’t even have the decency to lust after them for a few months.” He finished his little rant with a huff, kicking the desk by accident as he angrily crossed his legs.

Still, Francis remained quiet, though his lower lip drew between his teeth with attempts to hold back laughter as his English friend sat there red-faced and glowering at the floor . “My my, Doctor Kirkland,” He began, breathless with the effort of holding in his mocking chuckles. “I didn’t realise that _lusting_ was quite what you wer-“

“Oh, piss off!” Arthur snapped, standing up and grabbing his charts before storming out of the office.


	3. Chapter 3

_15th December, 20X4_

* * *

 

If you ask a person how they feel about hospitals, you’re more than likely to get a negative answer. More people associate hospitals with pain, suffering and unfortunately death rather than the thousands of lives they actually save each year. It’s not that much different for the staff, no matter what their specific job is they all see the suffering. The interns don’t yet. The interns are fresh and shiny and new and have more than likely never lost a patient, not to mention the fact that they were arguably under more pressure than the rest of the hospital for that exact reason. They were babies, newbies, qualified doctors that were still learning and more often than not stuck with scrub work from higher up doctors who didn’t want to do it themselves – or a nurse they had managed to get on the wrong side of.

That was perhaps the binding force for the interns. Though some got far too competitive and there were genuine rivalries, for the large part, they got along. Which was what they were doing today, getting along, sitting in the intern room on their lunch break and quizzing each other from medical textbooks. They took turns being in the ‘hot seat’ (Which was just a more relaxed copy of Doctor Hedevery’s ‘Question Time’), though nobody could be bothered to move from where they were already sat. It was light hearted, they only had about forty minutes if they pushed it and Alfred had convinced them all that they should always be learning – and no one had the heart to disagree with that smile.

“Mkay, your pashent presence—“ Chiara began, speaking around her fork as she tied her hair up (for the fifth time) before she removed the utensil from her mouth. “ _Presents_ , with a history of rheumatoid arthritis, and they’re old as balls. They’re diagnosed having anaemia of chronic disease. What is the predominant thing that causes this type of disease in people with chronic inflammatory conditions?”

“Uhh—“ Alfred started, but by then he was just showing off. “Impaired transfer of reticuloendothelial storage iron to marrow erythroid precursors.” He grinned as he took another bite of his sandwich, practically wiggling in his seat on the bench out of pride. Though the other interns would’ve called it an inflated ego.

Chiara tisked and threw her textbook down. “It’s not fair, you’re cheating, you have a photographic memory.”

“It’s not my fault!” Alfred’s smile didn’t fade, of course, entirely pleased with himself for having gotten every question right. Of course, he had a bit of a reputation among the staff now for being a walking encyclopaedia, so for every question out of the textbook, he could picture the paragraph it was taken from.  “You’re just jealous.”

The Italian scoffed, muttering a ‘yeah right’ under her breath, but there was no more of a complaint as their more placid companion cut in. “Please, Chiara, you know provoking him when his ego is inflated will not help him shut up.” Chiara burst out laughing, half for Kiku’s comment and half for the wounded look on Alfred’s face.

“Kiku! I’m hurt!”  
“Oh, you’re hurt by everything, _bambino_.” Chiara rolled her eyes, successfully avoiding the minimal wrath of Alfred’s childish glare.  
“Chiara, Alfred doesn’t like it when you call him that. His ego is bruised very easily too—“  
“ _Kiku_!” Alfred protested again, though Chiara was just as entertained. Everyone thought Kiku was such a saint, he was quiet and reserved and answered every question to the best of his ability, even if he was wrong, but he was so polite that none of the residents had the heart to yell at him when he did. But the interns knew the truth. “You and my brother should hang out some time, you’re both asses to me and nice to everyone else.”

Kiku laughed too, though his laugh was a much quieter and more restrained sound, most of the mirth was in his small smile and shining eyes. He was well acquainted with Alfred’s brother, actually, he’d spent plenty of evenings at their apartment and even one or two thanksgivings with their family – his family didn’t celebrate it, despite living in America his whole life, but since he’d been Alfred’s roommate at university, it was hard to refuse to join him. Not to mention the fact that now they were on this internship, Kiku was one of the interns assigned to Alfred’s older brother.

“Oh don’t worry, Kiku, _bambino_ is just upset with me because I’m on Doctor Kirkland’s service and he’s not.” Chiara’s wicked smile was there again, fork pointed accusingly at the younger intern. She got the desired reaction, of course, Alfred’s cheeks reddened quickly at the suggestion that he was _jealous_ when he certainly was not! Not one bit! Why would he be jealous? Just because Chiara got to spend all day with Doctor Kirkland and see him work and see that little smile he gave to the patients and how cool he was under pressure and yes Alfred was totally jealous. But he wasn’t a cardio specialist, Chiara was, and she respected the Doctor just as much as Alfred loved staring at him. “Don’t argue with me, Alfred Jones, we all know it’s true.”

Alfred groaned, hiding his face in his textbook for a good few minutes while the other interns laughed. “You’re all as bad as Matt.”  
“Oh, I like Matthew, he’s a very good teacher.” Kiku piped up again, perfectly aware that he was just riling Alfred up.  
“Of course you do.” The American muttered, straightening up and putting his textbook to one side before taking off his glasses to polish them.  
Chiara shook her head, standing up to go to her locker and put her things away. “I’m not judging you, Kirkland isn’t my type but he is a hot piece of ass.” She shrugged, huffing and frowning at her reflection in the mirror.  
“I think you mean he _has_ a hot piece of ass.” Alfred cut in again, still embarrassed but always eager to gush about the English doctor.  
“He’s gonna catch you staring at it one day, then you’ll be in trouble.”  
“It’s not my fault. He just looks so good. No one’s ass looks good in scrubs, he’s some sort of demi god or something.” He replaced his glasses on the bridge of his nose again, though his eyes were obviously off somewhere else. “—Right, Kiku?” He looked expectantly over to his friend, though that was a form of revenge, knowing perfectly well that Kiku was one to get flustered over these things. Which, true to form, was exactly what he did.  
“I—Uh- Well I have not…looked I don’t- I assume he must be-“

“Alfred, if you’re done torturing the other interns over Doctor Kirkland’s ass then maybe you can stop objectifying the head of cardio and let them get back to work.” Matthew had appeared at the door with charts in hand, an unimpressed look on his face directed straight at his brother as the rest of the interns tried to restrain their laughter. Even if Matthew was laughing too internally, none of them wanted to look unprofessional in front of the resident. Kiku himself blushed and scrambled to his feet, along with the few other interns who were assigned to Matthew, though his face wasn’t at all as red as Alfred’s was. “Thanks.” Matthew disappeared behind the door again followed by his interns, leaving everyone else in the room to let out their restrained laughter as the door shut behind him.

“Ooh, _bambino,_ ” Chiara smirked, wandering over to pat Alfred on the shoulder before pulling him up out of his seat. “You are going to be hearing about that later. Come on, we have more work to do too, I’ll buy your gay little ass a drink when we’re finished.” Alfred nodded dumbly, severely hoping that his brother wouldn’t pass on any of the conversation that he heard to the other residents. He didn’t need to be known as the walking encyclopaedia of Arthur Kirkland’s ass.


	4. Chapter 4

_15th December 20X4_

* * *

 

Chiara was not one to usually wear a smile. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she liked Doctor Kirkland so much, he seemed to have the same constantly angry expression that she had. It was like a sign or a symbol of their kindred spirits. Of course, the fact they both shared the same dedication to their area of expertise was also a contributing factor to her respect for him. Or hopeful area of expertise; She was only an intern after all, it wasn’t as if she knew yet nearly enough to call herself a cardio expert, or even a surgeon of anything at all. Which was why she was lightly smiling as she made her way through the hospital, under the rather incorrect assumption that she may get to assist on the surgery Doctor Kirkland had so specifically requested her for.

Doctor Hedevary had caught up with her and Alfred whilst they were checking one of their patients to inform her she’d been requested on Arthur’s service – much to her delight and Alfred’s frustration – and she’d hurried off right away. With the appropriate smug smirk to tease her infatuated friend of course.

The room she’d been summoned to was a floor below where she and Alfred had been, but even so it didn’t take her long to get there. It was like any other single room in the hospital, with the exception that most single rooms didn’t come with the usually so reserved and serious Doctor Kirkland perched on the edge of the patient’s bed. Particularly not whilst having what appeared to be a friendly conversation with them.

“Ah, Doctor Vargas, you’re finally here.” Arthur looked away from the man in the bed; his usual, unimpressed expression replacing what Chiara could’ve sworn was a smile. “I take it Doctor Hedevary took her time finding you? I’d like to assume you wouldn’t dawdle when you know I’m waiting to see you.” He stood from the bed, gesturing for her to come further into the room so he could hand her the chart, however his grip remained firm on the cold plastic cover as she tried to take it from him. “Mr Wright here is one of my favourite patients,” His voice remained the same, but his expression hardened further as he stared down at the considerably shorter doctor. “I will not be impressed if something goes wrong.”

Chiara was about to nod, suitably intimidated by the English doctor, until the patient in the bed laughed. “You don’t need to scare every single one of your staff. I’ve had a valve replacement before.”

Richard Wright – as the chart in her hands told her the patient was –  was an attractive man. From what she could tell he appeared to be in his late-thirties, but then again chronic heart diseases were sure to make a person look older. He had a light beard of stubble, though the darkness of his hair made it seem thicker than it probably was, and aside from the hospital gown and various wires connected to him, there was nothing particularly note-worthy about the man. If she could count out the fact that the way he smiled at her made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

“Let her be at least, Arthur.”

She’d certainly heard Doctor Kirkland’s first name before, but she was also certain she’d never actually heard anyone call him by it, definitely not a patient. The doctor usually seemed to hold such a degree of professionalism when talking to his patients, she hadn’t seen anything much more than a polite smile from him. Perhaps a hand hold for the particularly scared ones or a hug he didn’t initiate from thankful relatives, but never anything as familiar as sitting on the edge of someone’s cot. So understandably she couldn’t help giving Mr Wright (unintentionally) a rather weird look as she heard him address the English doctor as ‘Arthur’; Weird enough to have never heard someone call him it, weirder still for the first person to be a patient.

“Excuse me, the doctors are talking.” Arthur almost sounded playful, though the very thought of a word such as that being applied to the fearsome Doctor Kirkland grossed Chiara out far too much to really consider it. Her attention turned back to the doctor, startled as her eyes met his again with a cold glare. “I want you to study this chart and book the OR for tomorrow, until then I want all your attention to be on Mr Wright. He takes priority over all your patients,” There was a groan and a laugh from behind Arthur. “Understood?” Chiara nodded, gaze flickering between the still smiling patient and Arthur’s hard glare. “Good.”

Arthur nodded too, turning back to Mr Wright with an accusing finger pointed in his direction. “And you behave. This is a hospital, you’re supposed to get better here, not climb halfway up mountains and have heart attacks.”

Again, Richard laughed, holding his hands up innocently as Arthur accused him. “I’ll stop when you come see me outside of the hospital.”

Doctor Kirkland only rolled his eyes, turning back to Chiara and starting to make his way out of the room. “I have to see to other patients, I expect you to keep me updated. -And keep an eye on him.” He brushed past the Italian, leaving her with the chart and a patient who already looked like he was going to cause her trouble.

* * *

Arthur sighed as he waited outside of the radiology department, back leant heavily against the wall beside the door as if he were attempting to hold it up. It wasn't as if he was bored particularly, only that he'd been on his feet all day and had hardly had a moment to himself. This quiet minute of waiting for his patient’s scan results was almost like a long-awaited holiday. The doctors weren’t usually too long, prompt with bringing him test results at least – but perhaps that was because he had yelled at one young radiologist once for being sloppy and none of them had made that mistake since. He sighed heavily, glancing down the corridor and jumping slightly when a voice called out to him from the other side.

“Oh, Doctor Kirkland—“ He straightened immediately, lazy expression becoming serious as he turned accusingly to face the person who had caught him so off guard. He was almost sorry for his over-reaction, though any embarrassment he felt was hidden deep down before the intern standing in front of him.

“Sorry, sir, I thought you heard me coming. I didn’t realise you were waiting for results too.” Alfred looked sheepish, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn’t meant to startle Arthur so, but he had to admit he was the tiniest bit glad; Arthur had managed to look just the slightest bit cute as he jumped.

Arthur’s eyebrow raised in answer, expression a little cold as he looked up at the taller man. “ _I’m_ waiting for my results. As far as I can tell _you_ only just turned up to pick up your labs, Jones.” He didn’t notice the way Alfred’s smile brightened at hearing his own name leave Arthur’s mouth, though of course he didn’t know that the young doctor was so internally flattered and excited by the idea that Arthur had remembered his name.

“Oh, yeah, right.” The intern nodded quickly, realising his mistake but not at all feeling embarrassed. He grinned as if it were a friendly conversation, quite oblivious to the silence that had settled between them as he was wrapped up in his own shiny world that consisted mostly of Arthur Kirkland. That was until he realised the other doctor was looking at him expectantly and he remembered he was really there to collect his results, not moon over the older man. He stepped around him after a slight hesitation to get his brain in gear, leaning over the counter to get someone’s attention before asking for the results for his patient. “So, uh..” Alfred slowly turned back to the older doctor, determined to have a proper conversation with him outside of strictly work-related topics. “—Chiara’s working with you today?” He wanted to kick himself for the stupidity of the question, which he’d only realised after he’d said it and received a slightly confused look from the English Surgeon.

That and the thought of Chiara reminded him of the conversation they’d had at lunch, suddenly making him thankful of the fact that Arthur was leant against the wall and he couldn’t risk accidentally trailing his eyes down to his rear.

“…Doctor Vargas? Yes. She’s interested in Cardio and I don’t like uninterested trainees in my ORs, particularly on patients I’ve known a long time.” Arthur looked away from the intern slowly, checking his pager for no real reason. “I take it you were working with her today? I heard her mention something about annoying another intern by moving to my work, I assumed that she meant she’d left you with a difficult patient to deal with alone?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah that sounds about right—“ Alfred laughed, perfectly happy for Arthur to believe he just didn’t want to deal with a patient on his own rather than understand that Chiara had really meant that he was jealous she got to spend the rest of her day with the cardio surgeon and he didn’t. “He’s, uh, he’s really cranky and he makes fun of my hair.” That was possibly the lamest answer Alfred could’ve come up with and he silently gestured his anger with himself whilst the other’s back was turned to grab the lab results that had appeared on the counter.

“I can imagine that must be a trial.” Arthur turned back after the labs were safely in his hands, slightly confused about the way Alfred suddenly straightened but not about to ask. “You shouldn’t listen to cranky patients anyway; they’re usually just bothered about the fact they’re in a hospital or in pain or can’t eat or something. Your hair is perfectly fine, don’t change a thing.” He offered a small smile, just a moment of a curve of his lips before he turned and walked away.

Alfred stood still, cheeks warm but not flushed and the smallest but happiest smile on his face as he watched Arthur walk away. He lifted a hand to his hair, aware it had been an unintentional compliment if a compliment at all, but Arthur had smiled at him and that alone was enough to sweep the young intern off his feet. He didn’t care if everyone else just thought he liked Arthur’s ass, they’d only tease him more if they knew he liked his smiles even better.


	5. Chapter 5

_16th December 20X4_

* * *

 

"So wait, when you said he was hot do you mean like— Hot, or  _hot_ hot?"

Alfred had been like this for the past five minutes, standing far too close to his shorter colleague in the cafeteria line and interrupting her thoughts on what muffin to get. Alfred wasn't usually so distracted at lunchtime, mostly he just grabbed as much as was humanly possible to eat and went to grab their usual table. But not today. Today Chiara had mentioned a little thing to the other intern and now with Alfred's insistent and harshly whispered words practically on her neck, she was beginning to think that mentioning Mr Wright to Alfred was a mistake.

"Like…I could spread him on a cracker hot." She didn't need to look back to know Alfred's face and scrunched up in annoyance at her response, but she was fed up with his whining.

"Then- Then what do you mean by they were friendly? Were they friendly friendly, or  _friendly_ friendly?" Alfred was still insistent, voice tainted with worry as he followed Chiara to the table that Kiku was already occupying.  
"Alfred, I swear to God if you use a word to describe itself one more time I'm gonna stab you with this fork and use you for suture practice."

Alfred pouted but quietened down, poking at his food as he rested his chin on his fist. They were quiet for a minute, Chiara angrily eating her salad and Kiku quietly watching Alfred push grapes around his plate.

"But what if he—"  
" _Alfred_ , oh my god!"

From the other side of the cafeteria, Matthew laughed, nudging Ludwig with his leg to get him to stop staring at Alfred. "Dude, quit staring. I know he's weird but he'll know we're talking about him if he sees you looking."  
Ludwig cleared his throat and looked down at his food, but couldn't keep from smiling. "Really? Sex-on-legs?"  
Matthew laughed again, joined by the tinkling sound of Elizaveta's own. "Liz, he's your intern, don't you ever pick up on it?"  
"Oh yeah," The Hungarian nodded enthusiastically, pointing her fork in the direction of the intern's table. "I knew before he did, but play dumb. Last week I caught him staring at Doctor Kirkland's ass while he was finding a chart, you should've seen the way Alfred jumped when I asked him what he was doing." They all laughed, though Elizaveta waved her hand to get them to stop. "No, no, that's not the best part, he started spluttering and dropped an IV bag. –And then he tried to tell me that he was just going through how to attach an IV properly in his head. Thing is I told him to get a new IV bag twenty minutes ago and his patient was on the floor above."

They continued to laugh, Matthew at least trying to cover his mouth so that their joking wasn't so obvious. It wasn't as if Alfred could hear them anyway, he didn't know why he was worrying. Ludwig was the first to control his laughter, smoothing a hand over his hair with a deep sigh. "Poor guy, though. I doubt Doctor Kirkland even knows he exists."

Matthew waved him off, speaking around a mouthful of his sandwich. "He's an intern, he'd get into trouble if they were together anyway. Not serious trouble, but you remember the way people reacted when they found out interns and attendings were sleeping together; They were always accused of using them to get ahead."  
"I don't know, Kirkland looks like he needs a good fuck."

"Gilbert!" Elizaveta chastised the grinning resident as he sat down, sending him a glare along with his brother. Matthew on the other hand only laughed and shook his head, wiping his eyes of non-existent tears as they all budged up to accommodate Gilbert's tray. "What if he heard you say that?"  
"Oh don't be like that, Liz, he never comes in here."

"Who never comes in here?"

The residents froze, much to the amusement of the British doctor who had appeared behind Gilbert, though he maintained a frown and raised eyebrow. He hadn't heard much of their conversation, hardly anything at all in fact. It was only that since snippets of his name had recently reached his ears, and as he was already on his way through the cafeteria, he thought he should stop by and scare them like this.

"Uh—"  
"Doctor Bonnefoy, it's hard to get a hold of him." Ludwig cut in smoothly, looking politely back at the attending. Matthew, Elizaveta and Gilbert on the other hand remained looking very uncomfortable and not to subtly avoiding looking Arthur in the eye.

Arthur made a mental note to come into the cafeteria more often.

"You could try his office then instead of waiting for him to come to you, Doctor Beilschmidt. I can give you directions if any of you residents have forgotten the way to the chief's office – though I would hope you already know your way around the hospital – particularly a fifth-year like you, Doctor Beilschmidt." Arthur turned his gaze to the other German doctor, the repetition of the same name sounding no less scary to the residents as they knew precisely which of them he was addressing.

Gilbert cleared his throat, offering a weak smile that slowly became more confident as he lifted his gaze to Arthur's. "Yes, right. Of course."

There was a slight pause, all of the residents aside from Ludwig still appearing at least slightly uncomfortable – much to Arthur's amusement – until he finally decided he could let them be. "I have to talk to Doctor Vargas, excuse me." He wandered away from their table, instead heading across the room towards Chiara and her friends.

When Arthur was a safe enough distance away, the residents all let out a sigh, Gilbert in particular covering his face with his hands as he let out a groan.  
"See,  _this_ is why you don't say things like that."  
"Oh shut up, Liz." The German stuck out his tongue, only for them both to be shushed by Matthew.  
"Guys, guys watch, he's going to talk to  _Chiara_ that means he's also going to be near Alfred." He gestured, though subtly and they all very quickly shut up to pay attention to the other side of the cafeteria.

"Uhm—"  
"Just shut up Alfred."  
"But I can't, if he's mooning over that guy—"  
"Doctor Kirkland is not mooning over him,  _you_ are mooning over Doctor Kirkland!"  
"Alfred—"  
"I do not  _moon_!"  
"Oh you so  _do moon_!"  
"Guys—"  
"Hey! Look, I have a very professional level of mild appreciation."  
"Oh  _professional_?  _Bambino_ if I caught you staring at my ass like that I'd never want to work with you aga—“  
" _What, Kiku!"_ Chiara and Alfred finally turned their attention to their interrupting friend, expressions already angry and obviously frustrated.

"Am I interrupting something?"

For the second time that hour, Arthur found himself in the pleasant position of making everyone at the table uncomfortable.

Chiara had straightened up immediately, looking up and doing her best to retain her composure under the - surprisingly mild for once - gaze of Doctor Kirkland. Alfred on the other hand had completely frozen, blood draining from his face as that familiar voice interrupted them – oh and he'd been dreading the image of that same man swooning over a patient he had absolutely no contact with.

"D-Doctor Kirkland." Chiara cleared her throat, mouth opening but no more sound following.

"Doctor Vargas." Arthur replied in greeting, an almost patronising tone lacing his words. His eyes flickered between her and Alfred, however, a slight frown forming at the incredibly tense way her friend was sitting. He hadn't heard the details of their conversation, but he'd gathered from the way they were speaking to one another that they were arguing. "…I was just coming over to check you've been keeping an eye on Mr Wright. His valve replacement is in a couple of hours and I haven't had any updates from you for a while."

"Oh, right, yes sir. Sorry, I've had a lot of other patients to see to today and I—"  
"I don't care what your excuses are, Doctor Vargas, I just want to know the answers to my questions." Arthur's expression turned back to his usual disinterested one. Though he wasn't genuinely annoyed with the intern he wasn't going to give the security to let her think he wasn't.  
"Sorry, uhm—His bloodwork came back normal, he should be fine for the operation." She was still a little flustered, though annoyed with herself for being so and tried her best to maintain that professional outlook. Which was rather hard when the English doctor looking down at her only seemed to be scrutinizing her every action.  
"Good." Arthur nodded, seeming content with that brief explanation, though again his eyes flickered to Alfred, who still had not moved. "You're prepared for the operation?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Right. Well I have patients to see, I'll see you in the OR." With that, he turned to leave, though not without one or two more confused glances back at Chiara's table of course.

After a few awkward moments of silence between the interns - the cafeteria was never going to be silent - Alfred finally moved his face into his hand and asked, "Is he gone?" voice quiet and strained.  
"—Yes." Kiku said softly, though the word had barely left his lips before Alfred's head dropped onto the table with a resounding 'thud'.

The residents across the room were in fits of laughter again, though now they were at least trying their best to hide it behind glasses or around bites of food, none of them managed to tear their eyes away from the slouched form of Alfred Jones.

"Poor guy." Gilbert muttered, having regained a little of his composure. "What do you think they were talking about when Kirkland got there?"  
"Kirkland, probably." Ludwig muttered, much to the amusement of his peers. "You saw the way he jumped when he turned up."  
"Doesn't he do that anyway? I think he does that anyway." Matthew interjected, though he was quickly shushed by Elizaveta, who was doing her best to look disapprovingly at the rest of the table.  
"Shame on you. How do you think he'd feel if he knew we were talking about him like this?"

There was a moment or so of silence, but soon enough all four of them had burst into laughter again. Perhaps Elizaveta was right, it was mean to gossip about Alfred in such a way, especially when he was such a sweet young man. But then again, it gave the rest of the hospital something to talk about over lunch.


	6. Chapter 6

_18th March 20X5_

* * *

 

Arthur’s life was organised. He woke up at five, he had a shower at ten past, and he got dressed at half past. Breakfast was at twenty to, teeth were brushed at five two, tea was put into a travel mug at six and he left the house at five past. He got to work at half past six, parked in his usual parking space (closest to the hospital door, four to the right) and got to his locker at twenty to seven. He changed and pulled his lab coat on by ten to and then he could go out to grab his charts and check up on his patients.

The rest of the day was no less structured, though every day he had to change in accounting for surgeries and unexpected emergencies. On a normal day he could go to lunch at one and be finished by half past, but lately his much organised lifestyle had become…well, _dis_ organised.

His lunchtimes became longer, his time charting too also became time for him to become distracted. He woke up sometimes still in a dreamy state, wandering slowly between all his usually strictly followed timings. It had become so that the prompt and prim Doctor Arthur Kirkland was _late._

And it was all Alfred Jones’ fault.

He would deny it when asked, but so far no one had noticed. That was at least as long as Francis kept his stupid big mouth shut, but so far in their friendship Francis had never once betrayed a secret of his, and he hoped it would stay that way. It didn’t of course change the fact that whenever the intern crossed his path, Arthur had found his thoughts wandering away from which procedure to use on his patient and towards ideas of how he could get that gorgeous smile of Alfred’s to be directed at him. He could complain and claim to hate him internally for as long as he liked, but that couldn’t change the fact that he was completely, despairingly smitten.

Which was a problem in his very organised life as he hadn’t scheduled in time for daydreaming about younger men. Wait, no, _one_ younger man – he couldn’t stand the thought of being accused of being a _cougar_ (Which Francis just loved to do these days). He had space in his day for thinking about his treatment plans, practising valve replacements in his head, even the menial ‘what shall I have for dinner’ thoughts, he did not have room for working out what a reasonable excuse for putting Alfred on his service again was. Which was likely a good thing as Alfred was interested in neuro and, smart as he was, he really was not good with hearts and lungs.

But that didn’t stop him trying. He found himself buttering his toast to the thought of a much more metaphorical buttering, which usually had him drop the knife very quickly when he realised what he was doing. He hated being distracted, loathed it. He was not supposed to get distracted, not at work, not in the mornings. Days off, after work, holidays were times to be distracted. But Arthur didn’t even let himself think such things then. It was totally inappropriate in his opinion and besides, it wasn’t as if there was any chance of something happening between them. So he resigned himself to denying his attraction and mentally kicking himself every time his thoughts wandered away to the happy little Alfred corner of his mind.

He hated it. He hated it because Alfred Jones was one unbelievably attractive, intelligent, funny, kind man who genuinely caredabout his patients (which Arthur had discovered early on in February when he was assisting and very much felt his heart melt) and he was driving Arthur insane. It drove him insane because he interfered with his perfectly organised life and because he couldn’t _have_ him. And he wanted him. And he realised with a wince that he’d admitted such a thing a little too clearly to Francis a week ago.

He blamed Chiara for his infatuation – because that was what it was, an infatuation. If she hadn’t up and _decided_ to be ill on the day he needed an intern he wouldn’t have had to have Alfred bloody Jones hanging around him all day.

It had been the end of January, all that ‘new year’ excitement gone and the resolutions already broken, but Alfred Jones was still as bright as ever. Arthur had paged Chiara and when she didn’t answer he went to find her resident, but despite still having all of her residents with her, Chiara was nowhere to be found. He’d asked and Doctor Hedevary had explained that Chiara was too sick to come in, so he scowled and thought for a moment before scanning over the other doctor’s interns. He wouldn’t have picked Alfred if he hadn’t already known how smart the lad was, but Alfred was the only one he’d worked with before besides Chiara and he refused to teach a trainee today. He asked if it was a problem to take Alfred, which it wasn’t and they wandered off together towards his patient’s room.

Arthur of course had no idea of the snickering of the other interns or the smirk on Doctor Hedevary’s face, but Alfred knew perfectly well.

They worked well together, surprisingly, but Arthur thought nothing of it all day. Not even when they were in the OR, despite Alfred impressing him rather a lot with his capabilities – for an intern. It was only after the operation, when they finished and went to clean off that it happened. Alfred pulled off his mask and he turned to Arthur with the widest grin, as if he’d just completed his own solo surgery, or the simple procedure that they’d done was some ground-breaking medical miracle. Arthur had never paid attention to Alfred’s expressions, he hardly even paid attention to Chiara’s, but that smile was so wide, so happy and just so _genuine_ that he couldn’t help but be distracted by it. Then of course Alfred had to go and tell him how amazing he thought Doctor Kirkland had been in that OR and entirely sweep him off his feet.

It wasn’t fair. He had been cornered in that little washing room, scrubbing up to his elbows as Alfred leant on the sink and smiled at him. Arthur hadn’t been able to see it at the time – partly because he was deliberately avoiding looking at him at that point – but he could just feel the warm energy radiating off of Alfred and his mind surprised him with the sudden urge to kiss the young intern.

So Arthur had quickly thanked him and shooed Alfred off to do the chart as an excuse to be alone. He wanted to say that that little random thought bothering him was a fluke, something weird and silly that had just popped in because they’d spent all day together. But Arthur knew himself too well, and when Alfred’s smile the next day made him look away to hide a blush he knew he was doomed.

Back then he had hoped it was just a small crush, that it would disappear in a few weeks. He hoped perhaps that it was purely sexual; Alfred was an attractive man after all. But he walked past the patient’s room about a week later and saw Alfred chatting with them and asking questions about their wellbeing despite no longer being their doctor, and his mind had provided him with images of lying on sofas in Alfred’s arms while he asked him about his day. That rather successfully assured him that the whole idea of it being purely sexual was purely bullshit.

So Arthur’s very organised life had quickly become very full of pining for the young man that he certainly couldn’t have. But he could’ve handled that. Maybe. He was handling it, he _was._ Even with butterflies in his stomach or dreamy thoughts when the intern walked past. Of course, ‘was’ quickly became the operative word.

It was very innocent; Arthur had just been running after the third 999 page he’d gotten. But when his pager beeped again he’d forgotten to look where he was going as he checked it and soon collided with a very firm and very warm chest. He hit shoulder first, his left side catching and twisting his body as he turned his head to see what had just happened, his feet tripped over themselves as they tried to slow down to a body that had already stopped: Causing him to fall. But unfortunately the thing he had bumped into was Alfred and unfortunately Alfred had very good reflexes, which unfortunately meant that Alfred got to catch him ballroom-style before he could hit the floor. Unfortunately.

It was like something out of a bloody film.

Arthur was staring up into those bright blue eyes, entirely unaware that Alfred was blushing just as heavily as he, because Alfred’s arm was round his waist and on his back and his face was far _far_ too close to Arthur’s to let him think straight. His breath was already heavy from running and it wasn’t hard to leap to the image that they’d just been kissing passionately. Particularly as when he’d fallen he’d made a grab for the nearest solid thing, so now his hands were on the back of Alfred’s neck or clutching tightly to his scrub top. Time seemed to stand still; it felt like forever that they stood there, staring, breathing, _wishing_. But Alfred stood up quickly and righted Arthur, and they were very quick to mumble ‘thank you’s and ‘your welcome’s, allowing Arthur to dash off again with the annoyingly prominent thought of just how firm Alfred’s chest had felt through his scrubs.

Oh yes, it was entirely Alfred Jones’ fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An insight into Arthur's feelings


	7. Chapter 7

_24th March, 20X5_

* * *

 

There had been considerable tension between Alfred and Arthur since the incident of a few days ago, likely because the considerably intimate touch had newly stirred up some sexual tension between them – but for the first time, they were the only ones who had noticed. Not each other’s of course, neither had really realised it was a tension, they were only aware of the awkward way they avoided each other in corridors, or the charged silence in the chances they were both in a supply closet alone.

Of course, it had resulted in one or two more incidents of minor touching, both trying to go the opposite way through a door, bumping shoulders while grabbing a chart – even the incident when they both grabbed for the same apple in the cafeteria (Alfred had insisted Arthur take it and he had quickly left the room). It would’ve been overlooked by anyone else, but to them each touch sent sparks across their skin, even through fabric. No one had picked up on it, all they saw was the usual sweet Alfred getting flustered around an attending he found attractive. Besides Francis of course, but he actually bothered to look at Arthur’s face so he could see the way he too got flustered.

“I’m fine.” Alfred sighed, fed up with being badgered by his friends.

Matthew had been doing his concerned half-frown for the past week. He’d even made Alfred’s favourite kind of pancakes as if he was trying to cheer him up. He knew why of course, he’d become rather withdrawn and considerably less cheerful than he usually was, which was wont for his friends’ concern. But he wouldn’t explain that he was just in a rut over Arthur – they’d either make fun of him or finally tell him to get over it.

“You don’t look fine, Alfred. We just thought something might be wrong.” Kiku didn’t frown often, but this concerned expression was clear now as he waited for Alfred to pull on his scrub top, which didn’t take long.  
“Well, there’s nothing wrong, okay? I don’t have to be Mr. Sunshine one hundred percent of the time, man. You should know that.” He shrugged, but though his expression wasn’t sad, it wasn’t exactly encouraging.

Kiku hummed, a slight face pulled at Alfred’s back as he followed Alfred out of the interns’ locker-room. They were a little late as Alfred had overslept and therefore come into the hospital with less time to prepare than usual – Kiku had been on time himself, but he felt the need to wait for his friend out of sympathy. All the interns for once were gathered in a wide corridor, supposedly to listen to someone talk. From one side, Chiara caught their eye and beckoned them over.

“Jones, Doctor Honda, how nice of you to join us.”

A clear, harsh English accent cut easily through the quietness of the corridor, causing the group of interns to bite their lips in embarrassment for the two or grin at their misfortune. Alfred himself froze, slowly looking through the crowd to see Arthur’s raised eyebrow directed at the two of them, his expression seeming to sour every time his eyes flickered to Alfred rather than Kiku and making his heart sink a little.

“Sorry sir.” Kiku muttered, tugging Alfred’s wrist to bring him over to Chiara.

“Well, now that everyone is here I can actually start briefing you. There’s a large surgery going on today and many of our staff are required for it, which means that your residents might not be available to teach you today. Doctor Williams, Doctor Beilschmidt and Doctor Hedevary are occupied today, Doctor Beilschmidt’s interns are to go with Doctor Kohler’s interns and work with her, those of you ordinarily with Doctor Williams or Doctor Hedevary will be working with me. Be flattered, you’ve got an attending instead of a resident.”

Far from excited (as Chiara was at the prospect of working with her mentor), Alfred felt his heart sink into his stomach, how was he supposed to work with Doctor Kirkland if he couldn’t look him in the eye? If he got left alone with him he’d probably make a fool out of himself! It wasn’t fair.

“The rest of you, you can go, attend to whatever it is that needs doing. You lot,” Arthur gestured to the vague area where his interns were – he didn’t actually know exactly who was working under him, but he had a list. “come with me.”

* * *

Arthur had been dreading this. He was told a couple of days beforehand so that he could organise himself, but knowing that he’d be working with Alfred was not exactly something he wanted to do. He was afraid of being too easily flustered if he was caught alone with him, or having another awkward incident with bumping shoulders or both grabbing the chart. He almost longed for the other times when he’d been much more heart sick over him, at least then images of Alfred were accompanied with a light sigh and not an uncomfortable frown. It wasn’t as if they spoke often, but at least if they ran into each other before they could talk to each other like any other doctors in the hospital, now it was just a tense silence. (Where both were arguably thinking about kissing the other, but of course neither knew that).

Arthur had shown his interns around a few patients already, assigning different pairs of them to each. It had gone quite smoothly, he’d quizzed them all on medical questions off the top of his head as they walked, picking on each of them individually and so far he was quite content that he actually had a capable group of young doctors.

 He stopped outside of their next patient’s room, eyeing them all carefully – though skating over Alfred – and setting a harder frown on his face as he addressed them again.

“I have treated this patient several times in the past, I expect you all to treat him with the utmost care. His surgery is scheduled for tomorrow, even if you’re not assigned to him the intern that impresses me the most will scrub in with me. I don’t want anything to go wrong with him, understand?” The interns all nodded. “Good.”

He turned away again, opening the door and leading the interns in – surprisingly, with a smile. He went right over to the bed, smile turning disapproving at the grin he was given, even as he sat down on the edge of the patient’s bed. “Richard, I thought I told you to stop coming back here.”

“How can I resist when the Doctors they give me are so attractive?” Mr Wright winked, flashing his grin at the interns who had filed in at the door. (Much to Alfred’s horror, particularly as he saw Arthur smile wider at the flirtation). “Doctor Vargas! Nice to see you again!”

Chiara waved a little, meekly when she caught the glaring eye of Doctor Kirkland.

“Stop being friendly, this is a hospital, I’ve told you that before. Doctor Vargas is here to learn, not be your friend.” Arthur chastised, though it sounded far more warm than threatening.  
“Sorry, it’s just nice to see a familiar face.”  
“Right, well, Mr Wright here needs a heart transplant..”

“That’s ‘I could spread him on a cracker hot’ guy?” Alfred hissed in Chiara’s ear, expression a little too disgruntled. He couldn’t help it though, Chiara had been right, he was attractive and he had a charming smile and a wonderful voice and nice hair and Alfred hated him instantly because Arthur had patted his thigh and that was far too friendly for his liking.  
“Don’t complain, it’s not like you have any reason to be defensive.” Chiara whispered back. Much as she was excited to see her patient again (He had been awfully nice after all), knowing she’d have to deal with a whole day of Alfred moping, particularly because he now knew exactly how charming and attractive Mr Wright was, didn’t exactly fill her with glee.

Alfred’s expression soured, arms crossing defensively over his chest. He didn’t like it, Arthur had smiled too openly at Richard and Alfred’s mind had obviously set to constructing some kind of romantic relationship between the two. But Chiara was right, Alfred had absolutely no claim over Arthur Kirkland and Arthur himself seemed perfectly content in talking in a friendly way to the patient. Alfred deflated, looking at the floor with a frown as he tried to stop himself from getting so overly jealous.

“Jones, Doctor Vargas, I want you two to look after Mr Wright here.” Arthur stood, searching for Chiara and Alfred in the crowd. He knew Alfred was intelligent, as awkward as things had been between them he trusted him more than the other interns to look after Richard properly. Chiara was a no-brainer, she knew the case well and she was a star for cardio, of course she was going to be assigned.

But again, as this excited Chiara, Alfred internally groaned. He had to work with Arthur all day and look after a patient who probably had more of a chance with the doctor than he did? Great. Just great.

“Alright, you’re all dismissed, go and look after your patients.” The interns shuffled out, besides of course Alfred and Chiara. Though while Chiara went right over to say hello properly and check Richard’s vitals, Alfred childishly shuffled over to the end of the bed with the intent to pick up the chart and read through it.

However, having gained a little nerve, Arthur interrupted Alfred in the middle of his movement. “Jones?” He demanded, stepping over to him while he was still far enough from the bed. He was a little close, Arthur’s quickening a little as Alfred drew his eyes up to meet his. He was so distracted for a moment that he didn’t notice the way Alfred swallowed, the tension between them growing in the moment of silence he’d let fall – but he maintained a frown. “Is there a problem?”

“Excuse me—?” Alfred frowned too, though his was one of confusion, eyes flickering between the patient and Arthur.  
“You seem a little less than eager to work.” He raised an eyebrow, speaking in a lowered tone to avoid drawing too much attention. “Is there an issue with you working with Doctor Vargas or are you not happy to be on my service?”  
“What- No! No I, I’m happy to be here—“ Oddly, that perked Alfred up, back straightening and eyes widening as he hurried to insist that nothing was wrong. He didn’t want Arthur to think he was difficult somehow. Even if this weird thing between them as caused some uncomfortable moments he was admittedly rather happy to be around Arthur some more.  
“Because I can change you with another intern if you don’t think you’re up to it.” Arthur’s tone was unimpressed, partly because he was genuinely so and partly because he found it easy to keep up a harsh façade in place of allowing Alfred’s sky blues to get the best of him.  
“No! I, I’m sorry sir I’m happy to be here.”  
“Good. Because I picked you for this case for a reason, I know you’re intelligent and I didn’t want to pick a bad intern to take care of this, Jones. Don’t disappoint me.”

With that, Arthur walked out, leaving Alfred to stare a little too long after him. He barely had time to register the compliment. Was Arthur expecting good things from him? Did he really think highly of him or was he just making that all up in his head? He asked himself these things quietly for a moment, watching Arthur’s retreating form for as long as he was in sight and still string out of the door until Chiara pinched his arm.

“Ow!” He yelped, turning to frown at her and slap his hand over the assaulted arm. “What was that for?”  
“Nothing.” Chiara replied through gritted teeth, head jerking subtly to the patient, who was watching with unmasked interest.

Alfred continued to frown, barely managing to not glare openly at Richard as he grabbed the chart off the end of the bed. But Richard wasn’t exactly stupid and he easily noticed this, though he also had more grace than Alfred and kept whatever conclusions he had drawn about the intern to himself.

“There something wrong between you and Doctor Kirkland?” He asked instead, much to the surprise of Chiara and Alfred.

They shared a look, a source of vague amusement for Richard as Alfred bashfully looked back to the chart with a determined frown. Chiara on the other hand gave a generic shrug, peering over Alfred’s shoulder at the chart. It was as obvious to Richard as it had been to anyone else, though he also had the sense to realise the way Arthur looked at Alfred – not to mention the fact he hadn’t once heard him refer to the intern as ‘doctor’ despite addressing quite a few other interns as such. Which either meant that he hated him or that he was interested in him. Richard was no fool, he could easily see the sexual tension – whether or not they had seen it themselves. But Richard also liked playing games and Alfred seemed quite easy to wind up at the moment, so as the silence stretched out he decided to fill it himself.

“I would hope not, it would be really unfortunate if you upset him. I mean if you’re doing my medical stuff then he won’t want to come in here and I’ll be very disappointed not seeing that ass as much all day.”

Alfred tensed, not sure if he was bothered by the fact Richard was so openly admitting his attraction to Arthur (or so it seemed) or that he was blatantly objectifying him. The latter surprised him a little, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the need to defend Arthur. He looked up surprisingly calmly, frown replaced with a more blank expression.

“Doctor Kirkland is a medical professional and lead surgeon on your case, I think you should talk about him with a little more respect.” He stated, looking Richard in the eye as he handed Chiara the chart before marching out of the room.

Chiara stood quietly, shocked and confused by both her friend’s actions and the following laughter from her patient.

“So he has a giant crush on Arthur?” Richard asked, grinning at Chiara.  
“ _Oh yeah_.” She replied, a smile forming on her features as she realised the intent of his words.


	8. Chapter 8

_24th March 20X5_

* * *

Alfred was glaring as he walked down the hall, leaving Chiara and their ‘stupid patient’ (as he had dubbed the man in his mind) alone as he moved towards the nurse’s station. He had to do some charting, Richard was fine and he had Chiara looking after him anyway. He picked up a chart a little too roughly, causing the nurses in the immediate vicinity to jump, not that he was paying any attention. He frowned at the pages, grabbing a pen with the same ferocity to start making notes. Why did Richard have to be like that? It was one thing to say flirtatious things whilst Arthur was in the room, he didn’t need to continue while he wasn’t.

Alfred was, of course, a little over-sensitive, though he didn’t think he could be blamed, he just couldn’t stand being in the same room as that guy; A guy who, in his opinion, probably had a much higher chance of actually getting with Arthur than he did. He was obviously also forgetting the certain taboo of doctors dating their patients, but he was tired and bothered and not entirely focused on what he was doing. He shook his head when he realised his thoughts had been wandering, sighing in a disgruntled manner before running a hand over his face.

He was being irrational. He was just over-tired and stressed. He didn’t have any claim over Arthur, they weren’t even friends, let alone an item – though this reminder made his face crumple up in a frown and he quickly discarded it. He looked back to the chart, realising now that a few nurses had been giving him weird looks.

“Alfred.” Chiara’s voice caught him off guard, causing the American to jump in slight fright as the sudden word startled him.

“Chiara—“ He sighed, turning to face the smaller doctor only to be greeted with a glare.

“What the hell?” She hissed, pulling Alfred’s arm to turn him away from the nurses. “That’s a patient, you can’t just pick and choose when you treat him.”  
“He was fine! We’re waiting for blood results and he had you anyway, what are you complaining about?” He turned away again, expression bitter. He didn’t appreciate being called out like that, especially by his friend, particularly when he’d just sorted through all the negative, angry emotions that were distracting him. She already knew how down he’d been that week, where did she get off calling him out for leaving a patient’s room when she knew it annoyed him?  
“You didn’t even take a moment to check his vitals for yourself – and you snapped at him.”  
“You had that covered, I was reading the chart. But I did not snap, I was very careful not to.” Though ironically those words were snapped, Alfred’s irritation bleeding through into his words.  
“That’s not an excuse; Mr Wright could tell you were angry. I know you weren’t bothered about his condition so it’s not that big of a deal, but come on you’re supposed to treat patients well.” The Italian argued, not liking the way Alfred spoke. She paused, staring at Alfred for a long moment. The man remained silent, scribbling at the papers in his chart as if trying to block out whatever she was going to say next. However, her expression softened, glare disappearing. “—He was just teasing you, _bambino_. This thing you have about Doctor Kirkland, it’s obvious.”

Alfred paused at that, blinking once or twice as he processed those words. He was being made fun of? Was it not enough that he’d had a shitty week, now he had to deal with one of his best friends and some stuck-up patient laughing at him too? Whatever kind intention Chiara had in admitting the truth may well have not existed, it was downright insulting. “He what?” He turned sharply, facing Chiara with a returning glare. “Someone else is making fun of me and you blame me for acting up? Real nice, Chiara, _real_ nice.”  
Chiara frowned now, Alfred’s irritation mirrored in her. “It’s not my fault that you get jealous over the smallest thing.”  
“I am not jealous, what the hell is there to be jealous over anyway?” That in itself was a blatant lie, though it was surprising the conviction with which it was said.  
“Oh don’t pretend, _bambino._ You can’t have him and you get upset when someone with a chance shows up.” She snatched the chart he was holding from his hands, turning away to lean against the counter. “You really need to get over yourself.”

Now that stung.

Even though the intern had attempted to hide the comment under her breath, their proximity made it almost impossible for Alfred to miss it. It was true of course, there was no denying that, but there was a difference between Alfred admitting it to himself and hearing his friend cast the same judgement over the situation. He hadn’t really given such an impression to anyone, likely because he was afraid of the fact it would never happen but it wasn’t as if he was just interested in Arthur physically. Maybe it started out like that, but he’d seen the man work, he’d seen Doctor Kirkland change from nasty and cold to reassuring and warm. He wanted more than just a quick shag in a closet to get his frustration out, he cared about the older man – but Chiara’s comment had made it clear exactly why he wasn’t willing to tell his friends that.

Alfred’s expression hardened, glare turning cold now. “Is that what you think?” His and found itself on the counter beside Chiara’s own, closing her in though the woman didn’t flinch. “That I should ‘get over myself’? That I’m not good enough for anything?”

“That’s not what I said!” Chiara looked up, hands curling into fists.  
“That’s exactly what you said.”  
“I said you needed to get over yourself, I didn’t say you’re not good enough for anything!” She exclaimed, eyebrows knitting together furiously until she noted the way the nurses were tossing looks their way. She grabbed Alfred’s arm, trying to move away from the desk again but he only wrenched the limb from her grasp. “—It’s just the way you act about it! It’s unprofessional.” The Italian hissed, trying to be quiet despite her voice seething with irritation.

“Unprofessional?” Alfred scoffed, giving no regard to anyone who looked their way. “What’s unprofessional here is your—“ He felt his voice rising, ready to yell at the other intern full force only to catch sight of a doctor over Chiara’s shoulder headed their way. The tension in his shoulders dropped, straightening away from her though his hands mirrored Chiara’s at his sides. “Your attitude.” He muttered, finally keeping himself quiet as Doctor Kirkland came to a stop beside them.

“Just what is going on here?” Arthur asked. He’d seen the pair from the other end of the corridor, though he hadn’t heard any of their arguing he could hear the way Alfred’s voice rose – and if not that then he could at least see the way the nurses were looking at them. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a disagreement between the two interns, but the way Alfred’s face was set, well, it made him concerned.

Chiara straightened too, turning to face their senior with just as poorly concealed discontent as Alfred. “Nothing sir.” She replied, avoiding meeting his eye. “We were just sorting out some charts. I’ll be going to collect Mr Wright’s test results now.” She turned sharply on her heel, not willing to spend another moment in Alfred’s presence.

Alfred’s gaze remained averted, though for once he didn’t fidget nervously as he had any other time he was left alone with Doctor Kirkland. Instead, his jaw was still set, eyes poorly masking his irritation and face turned obviously away from Arthur. The elder raised an eyebrow, not convinced by Chiara’s answer and not happy at the prospect of two warring interns looking after one of his most important patients.

“Is it nothing, Jones?” He asked, internally surprised to find no embarrassment or fluster rushing through him when he spoke. Perhaps his concern for Alfred’s wellbeing had overrun his discomfort.

“Yes sir.” Alfred’s tone was clipped, swallowing his fading irritation. He was well aware of Arthur’s stare on him, so much so that he was almost entirely certain he could pinpoint the exact placement of his gaze. He wanted to just crumble, vent out all of his frustrations to Arthur. But for all he knew Arthur didn’t care, Arthur didn’t have time for him, and half of his frustration came from Arthur anyway so what would be the use in embarrassing himself like that? The thought made him bite his cheek, that same cold feeling that shot through his heart when Chiara spoke rushing through him again.

Arthur stepped forward, moving himself into Alfred’s line of vision. “Are you sure?” There was a softness in his voice, the same tone Alfred only heard when Arthur spoke to those scared patients and for a moment Arthur could see all the anguish in Alfred’s eyes. But it was gone again just as fast, covered as if by some mental forcefield Alfred wasn’t willing to take down for Arthur yet.

“Positive. Excuse me, sir.” Alfred cleared his throat, raising his head and brushing past Arthur to head down the corridor in the opposite direction of Chiara, leaving Arthur to stand still; confused and more concerned.

* * *

Alfred hadn’t technically been avoiding work, in fact he was doing work right at the moment; rearranging his locker to make things easier to access. Perhaps he’d been in Mr Wright’s room as little as possible that day, perhaps he’d been sure to never be in there at the same time as Chiara, perhaps they’d skirted around each other and perhaps he was even spending his lunchtime in the intern’s locker-room just to avoid talking to anyone. It wasn’t as if he was hungry anyway.

It was quiet in the room, save for the sound of his breathing and the back and forth shuffling of his feet as he sorted out his messy locker. He wasn’t a messy person by nature, but things had become so hectic lately it was hard to keep things in order. He’d been expected to be left alone; certain Chiara would bitch about him and turn the others against him anyway. He hadn’t expected that soft, accented voice to break the silence, though at this point he was surprised he hadn’t.

“Jones.” Arthur stepped into the room quietly, his face still hard as his expressions normally were, but there was something – gentle around the edges. He’d spotted Alfred through the window of the door; he’d only meant to walk past, but after the earlier business he found he was still in want of an explanation.

Alfred turned, holding a spare scrub top in his hands. “Doctor Kirkland…Are you looking for something?” He swallowed thickly. He’d calmed down at that point, no longer worked up over his argument with Chiara, but with his anger gone embarrassment could very easily take its place.

“No.” Arthur said slowly, wandering further into the room. He glanced around, making sure there was no one else in the room, though he wasn’t sure why he was worried by that prospect. “In fact I wasn’t looking for you at all.”  Alfred wasn’t sure what to make of that, a frown forming on his lips as he debated whether he should be confused or further concerned. But Arthur shook his head, lifting a hand to scratch his cheek as he found words. “This…argument between you and Chiara, is it serious?”

Those feelings of embarrassment spiked with fear, the sort of fear that came when one was afraid someone would find out something they shouldn’t. “…I don’t underst-“  
“Answer the question, Jones.”  
Alfred swallowed, finding his eyes wandering around to his hands and the scrub top they held. “…Not exactly, sir.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes sir.”

Arthur paused, watching the way Alfred held himself for a moment. He moved forward again, slowly, stopping once he was by Alfred’s side. “I don’t expect you to want to tell me anything, Jones, but that doesn’t mean you have to pretend things between you and your friend are fine. You’re not my intern so I don’t know if you expect something touchy feely when things go wrong, but if there’s an issue with you and Chiara working together at current I can move one of you.” He tried to find Alfred’s eyes, though that quickly proved to be futile, so he took found an averted gaze.

“It’s not a problem, Doctor Kirkland, we have it under control.” Alfred finally looked up, but only into his locker, very quickly folding up the shirt so he could put it away. He glanced Arthur’s way and surprised even himself by flashing the older man with a smile. “We’re professionals, we can sort it out soon.”

“…Good.” Arthur nodded, for once not that reassured by the flash of Alfred’s pearly teeth. But the intern didn’t seem quite as down as before and Arthur couldn’t find a reason to keep prying for information when Alfred seemed to have swept himself out of whatever funk he was in. “I’d expect nothing less from you.” He added, voice still quite soft, though what shocked Alfred was not that, nor the gentle emphasis Arthur put on the word ‘you’, but instead the surprise of a very small and very genuine smile on Arthur’s lips. Aimed at him.

“Thank you, sir.” Alfred said dumbly, after a moment’s hesitation staring at the gentle expression on the man’s face. If only he could kiss that beautiful smile.

“You’re welcome, Jones.” The Englishman nodded, smile still there as he too hesitated. But he turned away after a moment too long, walking determinedly back to the door, smile relaxing into his usual expression. Alfred watched him walk, very aware of his heart and the way it beat fast in his chest. Chiara could say what she wanted, he wasn’t about to ‘get over himself’ anytime soon. Particularly as Arthur turned in the doorframe, leaning around to see the intern with a concerned frown now in place. “—Get some lunch, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

There was one more flash of that smile and Arthur was gone, this time leaving Alfred standing still, the intern’s face lit up with a small smile of his own.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I have to severely apologise for this one. These chapters were written months ago I had no idea they hadn't been published on AO3, they've been on my FF for ages.  
> I suck though and I cannot promise another will be following as soon, but I'm trying, promise.

_3rd April, 20X5_

* * *

 

They’re not sure how it happened; they’d only been in to find the medical supplies they both needed, they’d hardly spoken at all that day – that week, even. Which wasn’t down to either of their choices of course, but if Alfred had his way of spending his whole day with Doctor Kirkland he wouldn’t actually learn anything he needed to.

Their interactions since their conversation in the locker-room had been few and far between, mostly all professional until Mr Wright was discharged again. Things hadn’t quite cooled down between Alfred and Lovina, though Kiku hadn’t picked sides Alfred had continued to avoid staying the cafeteria, which rather left Kiku to remain at Lovina’s side. But Alfred wasn’t concerned about their argument today, he woke up happy for once and seeing Arthur in the supply closet gave him plenty of reason to be even happier.

There was a light greeting when Alfred wandered in, Arthur’s noncommittal hum joining Alfred’s warm ‘good morning’ and a comfortable silence settled between them. They were quiet until intern made some ridiculous joke about syringes, his grin wide as he stared at Arthur’s unimpressed face. Their eyes locked, hands next to each other on the shelf,

And somehow Arthur’s back became well acquainted with the wall.

And there were Arthur’s caught moans hiding themselves against Alfred’s lips, Alfred’s warm hands pushing up the back of Arthur’s scrubs, sliding down and biting back groans as they curved around Arthur’s perfect, demi-god ass. There was this urgency, desperation in the way they tugged at each other’s clothes, the way their hands feverishly mapped out each ridge and curve of the other’s body and pulled them impossibly closer.  Then Alfred’s hips ground against Arthur’s in a way that made the attending bite his shoulder to keep from making a noise. Alfred’s lips found Arthur’s neck and Arthur’s lips found a way to tell him not to leave a mark, but the breathlessness and the held back moan of it made that just so hard to do. But he managed, because Arthur was pulling at his shirt and Alfred could feel how much Arthur wanted him so hell if he was going to ruin that. Alfred’s hands were still squeezing and cupping his ass and it took Arthur’s breathless laughter to guide his hands away and push his own scrub trousers down. 

Alfred had never stared so hard in his life, Arthur was only half naked and he was still the sexiest thing the intern had ever seen – of course he was so caught up in that that he didn’t notice the Englishman giving him the exact same look, not that it lasted long because then Arthur’s lips were on his neck and it was Alfred’s turn to hide his moans. He was certain then that Arthur was some sort of hypocrite, because he could feel teeth and sucking and he knew there’d be a mark there later, but he also couldn’t tell whether it was in a place his scrubs would cover or not. He made a move to push off Arthur’s shirts but Arthur’s leg wrapped around his hip and then there was a hand squeezing his ass as their arousals ground together and all notion of removing Arthur’s shirt was forgotten as something cold and tube-shaped was pressed into his hand.

They’d expected prep to cool them down, interrupt their desperation for each other for a moment, but Alfred was still holding Arthur against the wall with two fingers inside him and his lips were still finding places on Arthur’s neck to make him forget to hide his moans. Arthur was trying to return the favour with a hand palming Alfred through his trousers, but all thoughts of doing so were forgotten as Alfred’s lips found his ear and his fingers curved that bit deeper. It took a small amount of manoeuvring, but Alfred had no trouble holding Arthur up and Arthur had no trouble wrapping his arms and legs around the other man, trousers and boxers hanging from one ankle as neither of them had had the patience to let him kick them off properly. But oh, _oh-_ Arthur could not complain about hastiness any longer because Alfred had positioned himself and he was pressing in oh so slowly and Arthur would’ve snapped at him to hurry up if it hadn’t felt _so_ _fucking good_.

There was a moment where everything was still, Alfred’s cock fully hilted inside Arthur and Arthur tensing and relaxing so beautifully around him that he thought he might cum without moving at all. It was just this and them and their breathing and Arthur clinging to Alfred for dear life, not because he thought he was going to fall, but because he needed this just as much as the other did. And then Arthur gave a tiny little whine, and Alfred would swear he had never heard such a gorgeous sound in his life, but it was followed with a breathless and irritated ‘ _get on with it you twat_ ’ and there was no room for Alfred to argue even the slightest bit. He started slow, which would’ve been quite the juxtaposition to their desperation earlier if they weren’t still fervently kissing and every time Alfred pushed back in they had to swallow each other’s moans. Alfred found a rhythm and then Arthur’s hips were rocking back to meet each thrust, and suddenly nothing mattered because there was heat and hands and gasps and Arthur and Alfred. Alfred was so glad for Arthur’s insistence on getting his shirt off, because now Arthur’s nails were leaving him reminders that this was real, that this actually happened, that he fucked Arthur Kirkland against the wall of a supply closet and Arthur _loved it_.

* * *

There was an odd quietness as they dressed themselves, eye contact avoided and flushed faces not just from the exertion attempting to hide. They’d just cleared their throats and grabbed what they had actually wandered in there to get when Alfred grabbed Arthur’s wrist to stop the attending from leaving too soon. But he didn’t get any words out, instead he ended up pulling Arthur closer as Arthur stepped up to him and then they were kissing feverishly again. Arthur’s free hand had found its way into Alfred’s hair – which was certainly his new favourite thing to do – and Alfred’s arms were around his waist, both holding the other closer as heat began to rise between their two bodies again. It took Arthur mumbling ‘ _on call room, thirty minutes_ ’ to get them to break apart, ever the more flushed now and needing to fix their scrubs again.

They’re not sure how it happened, but neither of them care.


	10. Chapter 10

_5th April 20X5_

* * *

 

_They were quiet, still avoiding each other’s eyes even after their second round. Alfred was doing up the tie on his scrub trousers, sat on the edge of the cheap on-call mattress and watching Arthur hunt for his other shoe. He pulled on his shirt, eyes quickly finding the floor when Arthur straightened up with his shoe in hand._

_The only sound was Arthur sitting on the lower bunk of the bed on the other side of the room, taking an awfully long time in putting his shoe on just for an excuse to not yet look at Alfred._

_They’d both been incredibly eager to look at one another just a few minutes ago, desperate to actually get every piece of clothing they hadn’t removed in the supply closet off the other. They’d taken longer, hands exploring, eyes drinking in, lips marking, all thoughts that brought a red flush to their faces now. There was no problem staring into the other’s eyes back then, communicating their moans that way as they struggled to stay quiet. But now it was everything they could do to not look at each other._

_Arthur’s shoe had to slip on eventually, leaving just silence until they both looked up. From either side of the room, their eyes locked, averting just a moment later. Arthur swallowed, Alfred coughed. Arthur was looking at his hands when Alfred’s head lifted again, lips parting as he sucked in a breath to speak – and the door opened._

_It was only an intern, paying the other two men no mind as he kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bunk above Arthur. The elder doctor had stood, grabbing his lab coat from where he’d left it on the bed and chancing one more, quiet glance Alfred’s way before leaving without a word._

* * *

It seemed that they couldn’t get time to speak to one another lately – at least that’s what Alfred thought as he watched Doctor Kirkland rifle through some charts from the other side of the large nurse’s desk. Though it hadn’t been another week between conversation like their run in in the locker room and the supply closet, Alfred hadn’t even exchanged a professional word with Arthur since he’d left the on call room. At the very least he knew that for once Arthur wasn’t deliberately avoiding him, their eyes had met in corridors, crowded elevators, anywhere one could name where they couldn’t actually speak to one another properly.

Doctor Bonnefoy was walking down towards him and for a moment Alfred thought the chief was coming to talk to him, but it only took him a moment for him to realise the man was talking in mumbled French and looking around for something. He passed Alfred with hardly a glance, moving across the corridor to the other side of the desk.

“ _Ah, le voilá—_ Arthur.” Francis called, the phone pressed to his ear. “ _Une seconde_ ,” He mumbled into the receiver, pressing the phone against his shoulder and waving with the other hand to get his attention as he wandered over to the cardio surgeon.

Alfred watched as Arthur’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and then rose again in apparent realisation. He couldn’t catch much of their conversation – if the Chief had said anything to Arthur, though there didn’t appear to be many words exchanged besides an ‘ah’ and various nods between them as the phone was handed over.

“ _Bonjour maman,”_   Alfred, eyes still trained on Arthur, watched as the doctor sighed into the phone, resting his elbows on the desk in a similar way to how Alfred had been sitting already. “ _Ouai, ça va…_ ”

“I didn’t know he could speak French...”

“Didn’t know who could speak French?”

Alfred jumped nearly out of his skin at the sound of the other voice, unaware he had even spoken out loud. “Mattie—! Jesus, don’t do that to a guy.” He shot his older brother a look, sighing as he turned to lean on the desk again, nodding across the way. “Doctor Kirkland.”

“ _Évidemment_. _Oh, ah, je saute du coq á l’âne mais—…Non- Oui- “_

Matthew looked up, frowning as he noticed Arthur begin to splutter into the phone, clearly embarrassed by something – however quietly he spoke, it was still obvious to those looking at him – it wasn’t exactly a convincing display of an ability to speak French. But Matthew knew as much already. “Didn’t you? He and Doctor Bonnefoy talk in French all the time. Well, I mean, mostly Doctor Kirkland does it with his really bad English pronunciation and Doctor Bonnefoy storms off, so that doesn’t count, but they still do. Haven’t you seen?” He turned his frown to his brother, waiting a few moments before waving his hand in front of Alfred’s face when he didn’t get a reply.

“What- Uh, yeah. I mean, no, I haven’t.” Alfred looked up, shaking his head, but it was clear he was distracted; His eyes kept wandering in Arthur’s direction. “I never see Doctor Bonnefoy around anyway.”

“ _Coup de fodure—!? N-Non!_ _Non, e— est un- est--”_

Matthew stayed quiet, watching Alfred watch Arthur out of the corner of his eye, pretending he was paying more attention to his brother and not the blush on Arthur’s cheeks. He couldn’t deny that Doctor Kirkland was a bit distracting; despite him talking quietly it was always odd to see him speaking French properly, particularly as he appeared so uncomfortable. But he also knew his brother, and he knew Alfred didn’t care about French at all.

Matthew frowned, reaching out to put a hand on Alfred’s arm. It was a comforting gesture, concern on his features as he tilted his head for Alfred’s attention – which he finally got. “Are you okay?” He began, his own eyes flickering across the desk. “You haven’t said anything about your friends in a while. You seem more distracted than usual lately.”

“ _Al—Ah, **il** …non.”_

“I’m fine.” Alfred flashed his brother a smile, having to remind himself that Matthew couldn’t read his thoughts and couldn’t possibly know how Arthur’s blush had had him reeling.

“You know ignoring your friends isn’t going to sort it out for you, right?”

“Matt, I’m not a kid anymore; I know I can’t just ignore my problems.” He shot the other a look, not really in the mood to think about Chiara at current. “I’ve just been busy. I’ll sort it out, okay?”

Matthew still looked sceptical, but Alfred’s sincere expression was hard to ignore. Again he sighed, lips pursed but not ready to argue. “Okay. If you say so. I’m making burgers for dinner, okay with you?” He asked, starting to wander away from the desk and his brother.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Alfred waved him off, dinner at the bottom of his list of priorities at current. His attention turned completely to Arthur and the phone once Matthew was gone, watching with masked interest as Arthur seemed to grow tired of talking.

He had to talk to Arthur, they couldn’t just have sex (twice, Alfred’s mind reminded him and urged a smirk onto his lips) and not talk about it. He was certain Arthur wanted to talk to him too and he wasn’t going to waste an opportunity. He waited, pretending to flip through a chart or answer texts until Arthur called for Francis and handed the phone back over. He wasn’t looking when Francis muttered something to Arthur, only looking up in time to see the older man walking away with a laugh and Arthur’s glare trained on the back of his head. But he wasn’t going to wait to find out what that had been about.

With Matthew gone and Doctor Bonnefoy disappearing, Alfred couldn’t risk losing the opportunity to talk to him. He rushed around the desk as casually as he could, clearing his throat just as Arthur was about to walk away. Instead Doctor Kirkland turned, his eyes flickering with something Alfred couldn’t quite place when they landed on him.

“Jones—” He seemed caught off guard, a sudden flash of worry crossing his face. “Do you need something?” He looked back to Alfred, the lip between his teeth both giving away the fact that he was uncomfortable and distracting Alfred with flashes of times Arthur had bit his lip for different reasons.

“I, well yeah, I just wanted to ask you a few things.” Alfred lifted his eyes from Arthur’s lips when he realised he was looking. He tried his best to convey with his eyes that it wasn’t a professional conversation that he wanted to have with Arthur, but Arthur didn’t seem to be looking his way.

“Uh-” Arthur looked at his chart, his watch, then up and down the corridor, obviously agitated about something. “Is it urgent?” His eyes finally landed back on the intern; looking almost pained at having to ask the question. He’d been waiting for an opportunity to talk to Alfred, but he’d spent so much time on the phone he couldn’t waste any more time in talking to Alfred.

But Alfred didn’t know that, and felt his heart drop at that response, shoulders sagging just enough for Arthur to notice. “…No, not, not really I guess.” It was his time to bite his lip, fiddling with his fingers. “But-“

“—Would you mind finding me later then? I’m waiting for a transplant heart to get here.” The doctor spoke quickly, trying to convey the same thing Alfred had in that he _did_ want to talk to him. He looked down at his pager – which was blank – and back up to Alfred, head tilted in a genuine apology that was only clear to the younger man.

“…Yeah. Yeah, okay, yeah I’ll—Yeah.” Alfred cleared his throat, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his head. His eyes met Arthur’s, understanding that there was nothing the other doctor could do, but not at all liking it. “Sorry. –Good luck.” He started to walk backwards, trying not to frown at the tight feeling in his throat.

“Jones-“ Arthur began, stopping Alfred from walking off too soon. He glanced at the only nurse at the station; she was at a computer, back turned to them. “—The surgery- I should be done in five hours if the heart gets here.”

“Yeah.” Alfred nodded, holding Arthur’s gaze until the attending’s pager went off.

“Bugger-“ Arthur cursed under his breath, shoving the pager into his pocket once he’d read it – no time to clip it back in place. He looked up to Alfred, sharing one more, apologetic look before he brushed past Alfred and rushed down the corridor towards the elevator.

* * *

Alfred had decided he would never like the PIT. It was loud, full of either menial tasks or highly stressful ones and he’d been yelled at five times that day. It didn’t help that when a man with severe traumas came in his artery decided to burst and spray blood over Alfred. The intern had left his glasses in the locker room, soaking in some disinfectant for now whilst he stumbled into the nearest on call room.

His shift wouldn’t be over for several more hours, but since all his patients were taken care of, he thought he was well deserved a nap – he could be paged if anyone desperately needed him. The room was evidently empty and so he climbed into a bunk with no particular regard for anything besides kicking off his shoes and heaving a very relieved sigh as his toes were given the chance to stretch. The rest of him did too, enjoying the cheap, thin mattress for all it was worth as he pulled the pillow to a comfortable angle and closed his eyes.

Light didn’t bother him; neither did noise, so when the door opened he didn’t bat an eye. It was only when he heard a mumbling of ‘bloody interns’ that he slowly turned his head to see Arthur pulling his labcoat off before the opposite bunk. He apparently hadn’t noticed Alfred, with his back to the other bunk he had probably thought it was just any old doctor sleeping in the occupied bed – he must’ve seen something after all as he didn’t flinch when Alfred sat up and the mattress creaked in protest.

“Doctor Kirkland?” Alfred spoke quietly, a slight hesitation in his voice, which was only confirmed when Arthur sighed deeply and turned to look with a long-suffering ‘yes?’.

But that was only because he hadn’t recognised the voice in his own exhausted mind, leaving him to blink and start when he recognised the doctor in the other bunk as Alfred. “Oh, Jones— Sorry, I didn’t realise it was-” He cut himself off, another look of realisation crossing his features and he closed his eyes with a quiet groan that clearly betrayed how tired he was. “I—” He swallowed, looking over to Alfred, shoulders slumped and expression unguarded for once. “I just finished the surgery I don’t really- I don’t have the energy to…”

“Talk?” Alfred finished for him, his own expression nothing but sympathetic, which made Arthur’s soften. “—It’s fine, I get it.” He nodded, smiling a very small and gentle smile. He was understanding of course, Arthur was a great surgeon but transplants didn’t get any easier. Much as Alfred loved his job he didn’t really enjoy being on his feet for four hours or longer and he didn’t even do the major parts of surgeries yet, Arthur did this all the time. Even so, he couldn’t deny that he was disappointed. They were alone, away from anyone else for the first time in three days and they weren’t going to talk about it.

A quiet fell between them, Alfred looking at his feet and Arthur looking at his hands as they fiddled with the edge of his labcoat. They looked up at the same time, eyes meeting again and Alfred couldn’t stop his mouth from moving.

“Do you want to share my bunk?”

It was a ridiculous question really, Alfred was already chastising himself for not holding his tongue. Why on earth would Doctor Kirkland agree to that? Just because they’d slept together didn’t mean Arthur was comfortable far more _literally_ sleeping together, let alone the fact someone could walk in on them. Not that that had bothered them before of course but,

“Alright.”

Arthur spoke with that hesitation that Alfred had had just moments ago, but however quiet the word it was still deafening in Alfred’s ears. His inner voice silenced, he was free to look up to Arthur, blinking as he watched the man change from awkward hesitation to picking up his shoes and dropping them next to Alfred’s own.

It took just a moment for Alfred’s body to catch up with his mind, scrambling a little too quickly back on the mattress to give Arthur room – but the way the elder laughed just slightly made up for any embarrassment from that. Again there was a little hesitation, eyes avoided as they had times before whilst Arthur carefully lay down next to Alfred.

The bunk was smaller than Alfred had realised, with two people on its small size became obvious, but when he felt a surge of confidence to open his arms and Arthur allowed himself to curl up in them it felt the perfect size.

They relaxed against each other, arms around waists and legs soon finding themselves tangled as their foreheads pressed together. They were quiet for a minute, comfortable and uncomfortable, relaxed and tense, only the sounds of their breathing and muffled ventilation, though neither was sure which one was which.

Alfred’s eyes were downcast, both looking and trying not to look at the way their legs were tangled. He didn’t notice Arthur watching him, not until the other spoke up.

“What happened to your glasses?” The Englishman asked quietly, frowning slightly as he lifted a hand to Alfred’s cheek and Alfred felt his nerves erupt with electricity.

“I, uh, they’re being disinfected, a patient bled on me.” He pulled a face at the memory, though smiled when Arthur snorted.

“Oh dear. Poor chap, if he was bleeding enough to be on your glasses.”

“Yeah, but he’s fine now.” Alfred nodded, fingers curling into the fabric of Arthur’s scrub shirt.

“…Are you?” Arthur asked, voice softer than before and Alfred’s eyes flashed up again.

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged, feeling a bit silly for saying as much when it was obvious – he was in the process of taking a nap when Arthur appeared after all.

Arthur hummed, the hand on Alfred’s cheek brushing back into his hair and he raised an eyebrow when the intern visibly shuddered.  “You guess?” He didn’t sound convinced, nor did he look it, fingers idly brushing the tangles out of Alfred’s short locks.

“Uh,” Alfred shrugged, eyes closed to the feeling of Arthur playing with his hair. “Well. It’s been a tough week I guess.” He didn’t really want to spill his heart out to Arthur, it didn’t feel right, even with the other sounding so much like he wanted to listen – even with them tangled up in this embrace.

But Arthur scoffed, entertained by something, and Alfred’s eyes opened again, questioning. “Well I would’ve thought fucking me in a supply closet wasn’t a tough thing for you to do. I hope.” He smirked, quietly entertained, particularly when Alfred blushed and smirked back.

“Well, no. But it was a bit more stressful than fucking you in an on call room.” Arthur’s cheeks warmed, hidden in the dimness of the room, but they both laughed.  They quieted, Arthur almost shyly meeting Alfred’s eyes now. “No, that was the highlight of my week.”

“Oh really?” Arthur’s eyebrow arched, the hand in Alfred’s hair pausing on the back of his head. He didn’t flinch when Alfred’s hands grew brave enough to curve around his ass, only glancing down and raising both eyebrows.

“Really.” Alfred murmured, feeling emboldened by their little back-and-forth. His lips grazed Arthur’s and he could feel the Englishman’s smirk as the elder closed the distance.

They didn’t talk much after that, not as Alfred rolled them over and they got caught up in touching one another. Alfred’s teeth found Arthur’s shoulders at one point and Arthur’s muffled complaints of it joined – But Alfred had muttered that Arthur’s scratches on his back hadn’t gone away so he was entitled to bite marks on his shoulder and that very quickly shut him up. Both were too tired for much, they didn’t have lube and neither carried condoms, but the gentle rock of their hips with Arthur’s hand wrapped loosely around them both was surprisingly energising .

They didn’t get to talk after either, both pagers going off in canon and they dressed in a hurry with just a messy kiss before both went their separate ways. But they found they didn’t mind.

Because the same thing happened a few days later, and then the next week, and then all following weeks after were interspersed with their encounters in on-call rooms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'le voilá' - There he is  
> 'Ouai' - Yeah  
> 'Évidemment' - Obviously  
> 'Je saute du coq á l'âne mais' - 'To jump from the cock to the donkey', on a completely different note/this is entirely irrelevant
> 
> Just bits of random conversation, if you were interested in the translation.
> 
> Also, I feel this is important to add, this is not the last chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

_22nd April 20X5_

* * *

 

It had been only a few weeks now, but to Alfred and Arthur the days had flown by. They’d never really spoken about it, not once had they ever exchanged a word on the matter, but from that first encounter it seemed that any time they found themselves alone together they wound up on a bed. Or against a wall; or chair, or even once the floor, but the nearest place they could be pressed close to one another had been used in one way or another. It had been coincidence at first, empty on-call rooms that drew them to one another; then came the glances that invited the other to join, then quick words had dissolved into regular meetings in empty rooms and cramped closets.

It wasn’t the most elegant system, nor the most conventional, but those few weeks had brought both of them more happiness and excitement than any of the past year. It wasn’t really just sex, of course words were scarcely exchanged in attempts to keep quiet while other hospital staff walked by, but conversations as they dressed again were often more personal than might have been expected.

Even so, they had managed to keep their little affair a secret. Neither had breathed a word to anyone else, though when they hadn’t really defined their loose ‘friends with benefits’ system between one another, there wasn’t much to tell. It didn’t bother them, for now, they didn’t need a clear cut definition of their fraternising – and Alfred at the very least didn’t need to be undermined by his friends. He still hadn’t made up with Lovina and his brother was less than helpful as he was growing more and more stressed with piles of work; which left Alfred in charge of most of their household chores as well as his own intern duties.

But he was nearly back to his usual self that morning as he wandered into the intern locker room. There were a few already there, though no one really looked up when the door opened, too busy changing or sorting out their things. Alfred himself went straight to his locker, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling out some scrubs as he hummed some jingle he’d heard that morning under his breath.

He didn’t get much time to change, however, as Kiku appeared beside him at his own, adjacent locker. “Good morning.” He greeted with a small, polite smile, the likes of which Alfred returned.

“Morning.” Alfred answered, setting his things down to pull his shirt off. Though things hadn’t quite been mended with Chiara, Kiku had been flitting between the two – a true neutral. Alfred bared no grudges against Kiku, though he was very aware of how eager his friend was for he and Chiara to make up.

Kiku himself was only concerned about his friend’s wellbeing. Though glancing up at the shirtless Alfred, he wondered if that was an issue for the other at the moment.

“—What’s that on your back?”

Alfred froze for a moment in his place, realising far too late that his bare back had put on full display the fading red welts of scratch marks. “Uh, where?” He said quickly, shrugging and pulling on his scrub top as fast as he could manage and prevent his friend from staring longer.

“All over. Those scratch marks.” Kiku insisted, now entertained by his friend’s denial. “Was it a one night stand or have you been keeping a boyfriend secret from u- me?”

The image of Arthur tugging him into a closet and kissing him senseless against a shelf of packaged syringes flashed across Alfred’s mind.

“—I don’t know what you’re talking about, I haven’t had sex.” Alfred continued to insist, looking quite intensely at his locker.

“You’re sure about that?” Kiku had an eyebrow raised, almost making Alfred worry he could see the thoughts of his hot makeout sessions with the older doctor in his mind.

“Positive.” He flashed a lame smile, reaching into his locker for his pager.

_Arthur’s caught moans against his neck._

“One hundred percent?”

_Arthur’s hands pushing desperately past fabric._

 “I’m serious.”

_Arthur’s smirk as their hips grind together._

“You’d tell me if you did?”

_Arthur’s breathless ‘Jones’ muttered hotly against his lips._

 Alfred swallowed thickly.

“Of course. I don’t even have time to find someone to sleep with these days.” The image of Arthur spread out beneath him appeared in his mind, leaving Alfred with the quiet voice of his own psyche whispering ‘liar’. “—I slipped off the kitchen counter yesterday; the drawer handles must’ve caught me.”

Kiku didn’t look any more convinced than Alfred expected him to, but at least he knew the man had the decency to leave off a topic if someone refused to answer. There was no way Alfred could convince anyone those weren’t scratch marks from fingernails, but Kiku would at least pretend.

Kiku nodded slowly, reaching into his own locker for a few things – he had the sense to dress before arriving. “I would’ve been surprised; I would’ve thought your crush on Doctor Kirkland prevented you from sleeping with someone else.” He was teasing, laughing only when Alfred elbowed him. “—You haven’t said much about him recently though, are you feeling okay?”

It was meant in a reassuring way as much as teasing, Kiku was aware of Alfred’s sensitivity around the issue in the weeks prior, but the short (and slightly nervous) laugh that escaped the American reassured.

“I’m feeling just fine, Kiku.”

If only he knew just how fine.

* * *

Arthur was doing his best not to draw attention to himself these days. He’d never been one for the limelight really, but his current state of affairs rather meant he was avoiding the lingering attentions of any of his colleagues. Especially Francis.

This was both hard and easy to do as the doctor was often held up in his office, but also needed to speak to his heads of department often. But given the way things were between him and Alfred, he didn’t want to risk anyone else finding out just yet – and that man had some kind of sixth sense for knowing when someone had had sex. Arthur would’ve sworn himself that it was only because Francis and he had known each other so long, but unfortunately he’d proved his weird abilities far too often for Arthur to continue to argue that. Whatever the case, Arthur did _not_ want Francis to know that he was sleeping with anyone; it would be far too easy for the Frenchman to jump to the immediate conclusion that it was Alfred and he was in no mind recently to deal with that pile of horse shit.

He was enjoying himself with Alfred; he didn’t want it picked apart by someone else. They hadn’t even put any kind of label on it themselves and added pressure from peers on either end wouldn’t help. Of course, he was worried Francis would come to notice him pinching the free condoms from the clinic. He’d been increasingly more paranoid that he’d get caught carrying condoms and lube around in his pockets – but he wasn’t about to stop when Alfred might catch his eye and tug him into the nearest dark corner.

That thought of Alfred did mean Arthur had to repress a shiver, though it just as soon brought a scowl to his face. It just had to be his luck that he was walking around the hospital with his neck on full display when he least wanted attention – and no prizes could be given for guessing why exactly he wanted his neck covered. Even if that last encounter was a fond memory for the moment, if he ran into Francis he’d be immediately quizzed on the mark on his neck.

So far though, Arthur had been successful in both avoiding Francis and hiding the hickey; at the moment he’d managed to prevent anyone from noticing with pulling up his collar and rubbing his neck. If anyone thought anything they could only assume he had some muscle issue.

Nevertheless, he had little to do that day – and Alfred had gotten his own marks as revenge for the rough treatment. Maybe that didn’t exactly work in Arthur’s favour, but it seemed like a good piece of revenge in his mind for the moment. Furthermore, he hadn’t seen Alfred since then, he had no idea that the scratches had been seen by anyone.

Not that this sort of thought was bothering him at the moment, Arthur had just gotten out of surgery (a wonderful way to avoid colleagues as long as they weren’t looking for you) and was thinking more about washing the suds of soap off of his forearms and considering what to do for lunch.

“That was amazing work, Doctor Kirkland.”

Arthur was stirred out of his thoughts by the voice of Chiara, blinking at her as he took a moment to process her words.

“Thank you, but I’d hardly call a bypass amazing work.” He gave an odd breath of a laugh, turning his face back to his hands as the intern did with her own. “I hope you were paying close attention though, even if it’s not amazing that doesn’t make it easy.”

Chiara nodded sharply, shaking her hands dry before reaching for a towel. “Of course.”

Arthur copied the younger doctor’s actions in drying off his hands, but his eyebrow rose. Ever the strict teacher, he turned to face Chiara properly, stony expression appearing on his face. “Talk me through the procedure.”

Chiara blinked, almost looking startled as she looked up to Arthur. She seemed like a deer in headlights, the unusual lack of surety in her eyes as she met the older doctor’s gaze.

“Uh—Begin with, with opening the chest cavity,” She glanced down, eyebrows knitting together in an unusually hard form of concentration. “—No, open, no, take,”

“Doctor Vargas.” Arthur cut in, frowning softly at her. His expression hadn’t changed much, though as he watched her begin to flounder he’d crossed his arms, leaning against the basin with a more concerned touch to his features. He didn’t involve himself in many of the intern’s lives, ever if he could avoid it, but she’d seemed off for the past few days and he wasn’t about to brush it off as nothing when the usually eager and bright student couldn’t form the words to describe a simple procedure. “You seem distracted. Is everything alright?”

Chiara swallowed, expression turning sheepishly embarrassed as she looked away. She opened her mouth to argue, any number of flimsy excuses on the tip of her tongue, but lying to Doctor Kirkland would get her nowhere. Whilst she doubted the man had any interest whatsoever in getting to know his interns in any friendly way outside of the confines of work, just trying to tell him she was fine wouldn’t do either. Besides, he’d already guessed and he didn’t seem easily fooled by lies. She sighed, running a hand over her meticulously pulled back hair.

“—No.” She conceded eventually, still looking down. Answering flatly got her out of it; it didn’t mean she had to elaborate.

Arthur surveyed her quietly, a frown still on his features. Much as he hated to admit it, he did get worried about the younger staff members. He was young once, he remembered all the stress, personal life and professional. He couldn’t blame any of them for crumbling under it; he was just surprised Chiara had kept it up so long.

“Do you want to tell me about it or am I going to have to sit here and imagine you’re going to take care of it yourself?” He raised an eyebrow, catching the young woman’s frustrated gaze.

“It’s nothing, really. I can handle it. I mean, I will. It’s just-“ She paused, hesitant, another sigh eventually escaping her. “I…I had an argument with a friend and I’ve realised I…may have been in the wrong. May have. But I don’t know how to go about telling him that because it’s been a few weeks now and I don’t think he wants to talk to me.” She crossed her arms, brows furrowed not dissimilarly to Arthur’s, and he too sighed.

Of course, he had to pretend he didn’t know exactly who she was talking about. Alfred was a surprisingly private person, but he was more emotional than that allowed. He had no idea what the cause of this spat was, but Alfred had been distracted enough to warrant an explanation after one encounter. Arthur knew about their argument, though he had no idea he was the subject of it.

“Well…Maybe you just have to get him alone.” He offered. Arthur was incredibly poor at dealing with his own emotions, to a fault in fact. But he’d spent enough time around other people to know that sometimes apologies didn’t need to be hard. “That’s probably not easy at the moment but you never know. After your shifts or something.”

Chiara nodded distractedly, once again avoiding Arthur’s gaze. “Thank you, Doctor Kirkland. I have rounds, I need to go-“

“Right, of course. Think about it, though. If this is affecting your work you should do something about it; I won’t have distractions in my OR.”

His voice was stern, but he did see the hint of a smile on Chiara's face as she disappeared around the corner.

Left alone, Arthur sighed. He had his own work to do too, and grabbing his lab coat he relented that he’d have to fill in another pile of boring paperwork before he did his own rounds on patients. He checked the time. Later than he would’ve liked – Chiara's fault probably for distracting him with her personal life. That was his argument of course, ignoring the fact that he’d been the one to ask. In his own mind, he could argue that he had no business in the affairs of interns, but dealing with them as part of the territory. Why he’d agreed to come to a teaching hospital he’d never know. No, he did know. It was because his best friend needed a head of cardio and he needed a job.

He ran a hand down his face as he made his way to the nearest nurse’s station, usual frown set in place as he lent on the counter and fished for his chart. He’d barely clicked his pen when a voice called out from behind him, effectively startling him out of his reverie.

“Arthur!”

The man whipped around, startled, though he almost instantly regretted it as his eyes landed on the other doctor who had called out to him. He cleared his throat, attempting to diguse his slight fluster before he met Francis’ gaze. Francis’ eyes narrowed, frown replacing the small smile as he scrutinize the other doctor.

“Everything alright?”

“Peachy.” Arthur flashed a weak smile, aware he had very little ability to lie to the man who knew him so well. Francis of course didn’t look convinced, though he couldn’t see anything physically wrong with the man and therefore had no reason to argue. Still, he hesitated, watching Arthur until the man began to frown too – but out of irritation rather than concern. “What do you want, then?”

“Oh—“ Francis slowly leant back, lips pulling to one side in an expression of concern. “I need a cardio assist on a patient. The child, well, I can explain on the way up.” He gestured for Arthur to follow him, pausing when the other hesitated and turning back to face him with a questioning gaze.

Arthur returned it, nursing the dread of Francis possibly working out why he’d been off all day – either he’d never live it down or get into some serious trouble. He made a gesture with his chart, turning to the desk and resting a hand on his neck – disguising the action as a need to rub a sore spot – as he put the chart back.

“Neck alright?” Francis asked, hands in his pockets.

“Slept on it weird.” He replied, dropping his hand only when he was standing beside the other and had begun to walk. “Where to?”

“Room 403.” Also known as the other side of the hospital. Lifts or stairs necessary, plenty of turns, plenty of waiting, plenty of possibilities for Francis to ask uncomfortable questions or catch sight of the dark mark on his neck.

He was going to murder Alfred.

* * *

It had been six hours, surgery included. A woman in need of emergency C-section, with the child’s heart outside of their body. Arthur could make all the complaints about Gilbert Beilschmidt’s personality he wanted, but watching the man in action would never case to be impressive. All three of them had taken part in the surgery, though Gilbert had cleaned up quickly to go check on other patients.

Arthur had none anymore, still washing his hands as Francis leant against the sink. Watching him. He had been for the past ten minutes and it was beginning to irritate Arthur, though he refused to speak up first. Not that he had to wait much longer.

“Where’d you get that hickey?”

Arthur froze, running watch washing the remaining suds off of his hands. He cleared his throat, turning away swiftly to dry his hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Francis snorted. He’d been dealing with Arthur years long enough to know when the was lying. He’d always get defensive and the ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ was his go-to response for avoiding the questions asked of him. “Arthur you know I know when you’re lying. Just tell me if it was a hook up.” Arthur stayed quiet, causing Francis’ eyes to widen. “Are you seeing someone?” He demanded, incredulous. “How did you do that without me finding—“

“I’m not!” Arthur cut in, turning to frown. “It’s—It’s not—“ He slowed drying his hands. What was it he was doing with Alfred? They never talked about it, it just happened. It wasn’t quite just sex, but it wasn’t quite more than that, either.

“—So, acquaintance or stranger?” Arthur glared at him. “Just tell me if you’re seeing someone or not!”

“I’m not.” He snapped firmly.

He wasn’t, was he? They weren’t a thing—weren’t an item—But Arthur hadn’t pursued or slept with anyone else. Was Alfred doing the same? He didn’t know. And for a minute he thought he didn’t want to know.

“Okay.” Francis shrugged, bemused as he moved away and towards the door. “Whatever you say.”

Arthur watched the door shut behind him, staring at it as if he could see the Frenchman disappearing behind it. Francis knew when he was lying, Francis knew him better then he knew himself sometimes.

And Francis didn’t believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there ever any excuse for disappearing updates? No, not really. I've had a bunch of stuff and this got pushed to the side forever and I'm really sorry about that. I do love this story and I hope you'll be seeing a lot more coherent updates from now on (particularly as I can finally put in the plot aha)  
> Sorry for the long gap between updates, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. More to come, promise!


	12. Chapter 12

_22nd April, 20X5_

* * *

 

In ordinary circumstances, Alfred would’ve been quite overjoyed to be pulled roughly into a supply closet by the neck of his scrubs. But when being shoved into a wall meant Arthur was ready to yell at him, he was less than ecstatic.

“What the hell is this?” Arthur demanded, pointing angrily to the dark bruise on his neck. Alfred flushed red, looking the pinnacle of sheepishness as he eyed the mark.

“A hickey…” He answered, seeming to shrink in on himself in his embarrassment. He wasn’t at all embarrassed for leaving the mark, in fact he was quite proud and Arthur had seemed to enjoy the action at the time – which was half the reason for his fluster. Only, the reminder and how it had apparently caused issue for the older doctor through the day was his real problem.

“You’re damn right it is.” Arthur hissed, letting go of Alfred’s scrubs to run his hands angrily through his own hair. “Francis saw it. _Doctor Bonnefoy_. He doesn’t believe it was a one night stand.” He glared at the younger man, seeing the progression of confusion to realisation and then blank concern all cross his face.

“But—he didn’t know it was me, right?”

Arthur gave him such a look that Alfred regretted asking the question.

“Of course not, what do you take me for? But we can’t afford for him to realise.”

“Then, what do we do?”

Alfred was hesitant, some odd vulnerability in his eyes as he looked at Arthur; concern that the elder would be even angrier at the question, forcibly separated if someone found out just exactly the true nature of their relationship – or if the other chose to cut things off completely.  It had only been a few weeks since whatever it was they were doing had started, but Alfred had trawled through months of pining before then. Even without that or a proper date there were so many times they’d simply talked after he couldn’t help feeling something deeper drawing him to Arthur. To have that ripped away from him even as just a threat – he was beginning to worry more that the elder doctor did just see him as some kind of toy. But Arthur shared the look; though he turned away with a sigh before those softer feelings could be seen or shared.

“—Be more careful. Only locked on-call rooms and only when no one will miss us.” He decided, turning back with a harsh frown. “And no hickeys.” His tone was firm, Alfred’s sheepish expression returning, though this almost playful.

“Not even lower down?”

Arthur almost blushed in the dark room, glancing up again. “…Maybe those.” Alfred grinned despite the roll of Arthur’s eyes. “But we have to cool it down for a while.”

He ignored the slight disappointment that crossed the younger man’s features, though he found himself pleasantly surprised when Alfred nodded his agreement. “Okay—“ His eyes darted towards the door. “For how long?”

Arthur hesitated, looking away from Alfred for a few moments. “A week? A week and we’ll see.” Alfred nodded, ignoring the small twinge in his chest and distracting himself by straightening up. “Wait a few minutes before following me out.”

Arthur cleared his throat, something hesitant in his expression as he paused to stare at Alfred, looking almost as if he were about to do or say something more. But he didn’t, turning away sharply and leaving Alfred alone in the supply closet without another word.

* * *

The locker room was quiet, save for the sound of rustling fabric as Alfred changed out of his scrubs. His shift had been late and most other interns were already home. As far as he knew, there was no other person in the room, allowing him to take his time; or rather, move slowly, still processing his earlier conversation with Arthur too seriously to concentrate on doing anything else.

There was no reason for him to feel sad; he should’ve felt disappointed, worried, concerned, not _sad_. Arthur had only told him they’d keep off it for a week, it wasn’t hard to go without adrenaline-fuelled sex for a week – he’d practically been celibate before he’d stumbled Arthur into a wall earlier that month. Yet there just seemed to be something heavier laying on his shoulders. He told himself repeatedly that he was being irrational, it was only a week and he had no reason to be torn up about it when it was just sex.

Because it was _just sex_ , wasn’t it? Arthur had nothing to do with him outside of those dark rooms. Their soft conversations didn’t really have any meaning to them, did they? It was just…just small talk.

“Hey.”

Alfred visibly started at the sound of a voice, though the tone had been soft and hesitant, it startled him out of his reverie. He turned sharply, holding his shirt to his bare chest, though as his eyes landed on Chiara he found the tension in his shoulders disappearing.

She stood stiffly, though with the way her fingers danced around each other and fidgeted he could tell she was uncomfortable. He paused, clearing his throat as he turned away from her again, a tense silence falling before he half-heartedly responded, “Hey…”

Chiara looked no more comfortable, untwining her hands so she could cross her arms over herself in a defensive position, eyes on the floor. Had Alfred been watching closely it would’ve been clear how hard she was thinking about her words – but Alfred knew Chiara well enough already. He knew it was hard for her to apologise or admit wrong, even her just standing there because she was trying to talk meant a lot already to the tired intern.

“Look—I’ve been speaking to Kiku and—I’m sorry.”

Alfred looked over again, blinking. He’d been expecting her to begin discussing what had happened, not flat-out apologise, though it was nice to hear the words. No matter how bluntly put.

“It wasn’t fair for me to be so insensitive. Especially with a patient.” She fidgeted, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She was clearly uncomfortable, though that was the fault of having trouble expressing herself, not a lack of sincerity.

A smile slowly grew on Alfred’s face, warm and soft in such a characteristically kind way. He paused to pull his shirt on, only shaking his head to stop her from speaking up again. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been so—touchy about it.”

Chiara nodded, quite happy to leave it there. But she did speak again, chewing on the inside of her lip as she lent on a locker. “…Are you alright?” Alfred blinked again, surprised for the second time by his friend and only furrowing his brows in answer. Chiara shrugged, looking away. “You’re just…quiet. I know, I know, you can be quiet when you want to be. You’ve just been kind of off for a few days…are you sure it’s not getting to you?”

It was odd to see the Italian so concerned; not because she didn’t care, as Alfred had learnt a long time ago, the woman had a lot more emotions than people tended to think for the way she behaved, she only had trouble expressing them. To be so sincere and open in her concern was the odd thing – not to mention how hard it hit home. Alfred swallowed, looking down and then into his locker to pull a few things into his bag.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just work I guess.”

“But what about t—“

“—I’m fine.” Alfred cut in, looking back, his smile not quite meeting his eyes. “It’s not as if I have any kind of claim on Doctor Kirkland, is it? I was too touchy. Let’s just let it go.”

Chiara stared at him for a moment, both expressions unreadable and neither wishing to stand down. With some hesitation, she nodded, straightening up and backing away to leave. “—I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Alfred nodded, turning away to zip up his bag. “’Night.”

“’Night.”

He heard the door close behind her, slinging his backpack on and shutting the locker door with no particular grace, almost overjoyed to simply rush home and forget everything that had happened all day. Of course, he had no idea how long Chiara had been in the locker room behind him. He had no idea of how clearly she’d seen the scratch marks littering his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter, I know, I'm sorry, but there's a good reason.  
> Not to mention I promise I'm not going to leave you hanging for months again, there's more to come very soon, keep your eyes peeled.


	13. Chapter 13

_10th May, 20X5_

* * *

 

Francis watched with guarded curiosity as Arthur continued to scribble down some notes, his feet propped haphazardly up on the chief’s desk (despite numerous protests and quite possibly _because_ of his complaints.). Arthur wasn’t usually talkative, mostly he listened and offered snarky comments to whatever Francis had to say, but he’d been considerably reluctant to talk that day. It wasn’t much of a change from normal; the new normal that was. It was mostly a surprise to find Arthur actually eating lunch with him regularly again, he’d been avoiding sitting with the chief for over a month and suddenly he’d plopped back in on the regular with a grumpier attitude than normal.

“What is it then?” Francis eventually sighed, perfectly aware that Arthur was going to ignore him and continue his meaningless scribbles – which he did. “I know you’re not going to tell me exactly what’s bothering you but could you at least tell me that something is? Don’t just sit here and hide from your problems-“

“I’m not hiding.” Arthur cut in; frown deepening in a way that Francis knew meant he was lying. Or rather, lying to himself.

He sighed, pursing his lips as he surveyed the other doctor. He knew Arthur better than anyone else in the hospital, years of friendship would do that, but he’d never quite come to understand him. At the very least he knew Arthur’s response to any kind of emotion was to shut it down and pretend it didn’t exist, he never understood why, but at least he knew when he was doing it. Now was definitely one of those times.

“Okay, fine, you’re not hiding.” Francis knew that was a lie, but he’d get nowhere with Arthur if he didn’t give him some leeway. The man had been odd in an unusual way since April and suddenly he’d seemed to change his mind and get weirder. Francis was fed up. “But _something_ is bothering you and I’m getting sick and tired of you just sitting in here and pretending you’re fine. You’re not seventeen anymore, Arthur, try and handle your emotions like an adult.” Irritation had begun to seep into his tone, perhaps unfairly, and very quickly picked up on by the man across from him who looked up sharply. He didn’t like the glare in Arthur’s eyes, nor the way he opened his mouth to respond. Francis cut in.

“That was unfair, I’m sorry.” Arthur settled back down, but his eyes remained coldly on his friend. Francis sighed, resting his chin in his hand as he looked tiredly back at the other. “…Does this have anything to do with the hickey-“

“No!” Arthur snapped, far too quickly, very nearly getting up from his seat in frustration. Francis quieted, taking that purely as a sign that the hickey had _everything_ to do with Arthur’s current behaviours. Arthur himself was looking somewhere behind Francis’ head, giving him a good view of the man before him.

Arthur looked utterly strung out, a coil of nerves ready to spring. His clothes were neat and tidy and so perfectly in order as usual it only made his dishevelled hair all the more obvious; though Francis was entirely certain that had occurred during the day with his hands running through it countless times – something Arthur only did when he was stressed or worried. The bags under his eyes weren’t aided by his pale complexion and Francis could only compare it to the time Arthur had been doing his final exams in university. He looked like a man with something heavy on his shoulders, and he didn’t want a repeat of the last time Arthur refused to tell him something.

Arthur sighed, running a hand tellingly through his hair as he seemed to deflate. His eyes landed on the desk, something unsure and hesitant there as he paused, words on the tip of his tongue. Francis remained silent, well aware that prompting would only ever make Arthur clam up and never speak at all.

“I mean…maybe. Yes. It sort of- yes it has something to do with it.” He let out another deep sigh, still not meeting Francis’ eye but it seemed almost as if he’d dropped a heavy weight. “Look if—If I tell you this, this has to be one of the things you swear not to judge or criticise me for, alright?”

Francis nodded, still silent; surprised that Arthur had actually come to the point of admission and not about to scare him away from it.

Arthur still hesitated, finally meeting Francis’ gaze but holding back, that guarded expression once again on but at the very least the elder was happy to see some semblance of the regular Arthur in those eyes.  Arthur drew his tongue over his lips, hands twitching with the urge to fidget, though all he could do was twiddle his pen in one hand.

“I…For about a month I was sleeping with someone. It was just…it was just sex, whenever we had- had the chance I guess.” Some odd smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, something between fond and uncertain. “But it…It sort of ended a couple of weeks ago. We were supposed to continue but we just haven’t. I don’t know why…and it shouldn’t be a big deal because it was just—just meaningless sex-“ Arthur’s expression soured a bit, very clearly trying to convince himself and Francis could tell it wasn’t the truth. “I mean, we talked after all the time and there were a couple of moments but it never—it’s not like we were dating. We never had that. And now I feel really, I don’t know, stupid and torn up about it and it’s pissing me off.” He sat back, arms folded as frustration once again took over his expression. “I’d understand feeling down if I had broken up with someone but I don’t—it wasn’t—it’s not as if he’s in the same boat I am.” He sighed eventually, irritation still in his expression only really as a front to hide that vulnerability he was so averse to showing.

Francis hesitated, a concerned frown slowly appearing on his features with everything Arthur said. It wasn’t usual to see the man so cut up over these things, though with his career Arthur had been so selective his whole life about getting into relationships in the first place. Allowing himself to get caught up with feelings when it was only a friends with benefits kind of relationship was surprising to Francis, Arthur could easily shut off his emotions (it was half the reason he was surprised Arthur hadn’t specialised in trauma) and sex had never been a big deal. He couldn’t imagine anyone Arthur could get so wound up about just from-

‘ _He’s cute isn’t he?_ ’

Francis bit his lip, guilt washing over him as he drew his own conclusions. But it was up to Arthur to tell him that.

“I see…” He began quietly, watching Arthur’s expression carefully. “…You’re not going to tell me who ‘ _he_ ’ is?” The question was hesitant, quiet enough not to seem like a threat and soft enough to possibly get an answer out of Arthur – which Francis severely hoped he did.

Arthur paused, eyes flickering up to the other man and then swiftly away, whether out of embarrassment or because he was ashamed was hard to say, but Francis had seen the brief flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. It only confirmed to him that this was, indeed, a big deal. He drew in a long breath through his nose, adjusting his position in his seat as if about to speak, though it was clear he was thinking about whether or not he wanted to answer.

He looked back to Francis, that expression so open and warm.

_He knew._

Arthur shut his eyes, dropping his head back and lifting a hand to rub his eyes with a kind of tired frustration that only came from the weight of emotions. He gave a small nod, almost imperceptible had Francis not been watching.

“Jones.”

Francis sat back in his chair, confirmation of his assumptions sitting heavy on his chest. He sighed deeply, observing how utterly tired Arthur seemed to be and having to tell himself this was not a situation where he could go and yell at the person who hurt Arthur. This was a situation that sounded like they’d fucked up all on their own. Francis didn’t know how to fix that.

“Wow.” He sighed, smoothing down his own hair. “…You’ve really got yourself in a mess, haven’t you?”

Arthur snorted, looking back up with a darkly amused smile, but Francis was happy to see one at all. “Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

“How—How did that even happen?” Francis lent forward, suddenly a lot more interested, but Arthur straightened up.

“No, you’re not getting any details, I don’t want to think about it.” He pulled a face again, at least appreciating that Francis lifted his hands in an apology. “…I did fuck up though.”

“How? I thought you said he was the one not on the same page as you?” Much as Francis would’ve like to argue the opposite and reassure his friend, he knew blatant lies he couldn’t back up with evidence weren’t going to help Arthur.

“No, well, yes. Probably. I mean…It was my idea to stop and I just…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing or why or anything. I just hate feeling so…foolish and stupid and- and—“

“Vulnerable?” Francis finished for him, nodding when Arthur deflated in his chair. “I know…But at least you’re not holding it all in any more. You can’t deny you feel better.” Arthur didn’t quite look ready to agree, but he only shot Francis a look that confirmed he was right. “Come on. I know you just love the emotional stuff but we have work to do.”

* * *

 

Sleepless nights were simply routine now for Alfred. He was usually quite a heavy sleeper, Matthew had come up with many inventive ways to drag his brother out of bed when they were growing up because Alfred simply _did not wake up_ and that had gotten them both into trouble on many occasions. But now Alfred found himself fruitlessly seeking sleep, tossing and turning and waking up at odd hours if he did manage to catch a few minutes. It wasn’t the first time in his life he hadn’t been able to sleep, but it was the first time he’d gone to bed without being able to justify the pit in his stomach.

The first week had been simple, it turned out Arthur’s birthday was actually the day after their little talk, which the attending had evidently done his very best to hide from just about all hospital staff, but he’d been greeted with small gifts and greetings all day. Alfred hadn’t known and he couldn’t get away with anything bigger than a smile, but he’d bumped into Arthur alone in the afternoon and managed to say happy birthday – and Arthur had smiled genuinely for maybe the first time that day.

But it felt weird and strange to stand opposite one another, when silence fell Alfred fidgeted and Arthur was all too quick to excuse himself and continue on to wherever it was he was he was going. He couldn’t place the awkwardness at the time, they’d had sex the morning before after all and yet it seemed like they hadn’t touched one another in weeks.

In the following three days he put it down to the fact they were getting used to not being able to interact like they had been, to hiding it properly. But every time he saw Arthur he felt this awful wrench in his stomach and he just wanted to turn away and hide. By the end of the week it seemed like Arthur was just avoiding him, but his mind reminded him that the next time he was alone with the doctor they could make up for lost time. He hadn’t been given any suspicious looks since they’d paused after all, Arthur hadn’t come running to complain that Francis really did know now, it had to be fine.

But it wasn’t. He didn’t see Arthur at all until the tenth day – which wasn’t that odd, it was a very large hospital and Arthur wasn’t an attending Alfred often got to work with. He was the head of cardio for God’s sake, if Alfred spent time with the head of anything he always looked for Doctor Wang – though he wasn’t sure Doctor Wang liked him very much. But he’d finally bumped into Arthur in the corridor, quite literally as they collided with one another and Alfred grabbed his shoulders to keep them both steady. It felt more like the moment he’d stopped Arthur from falling than a casual interaction, they were stiff and couldn’t look at one another and disappeared quickly, and Alfred didn’t find himself screwing Arthur against a wall a day later either.

Or the day after. Or the day after that. It had simply become painful to look at Arthur and he couldn’t even imagine why. They’d stopped talking, not that they spoke often outside of sex but they had occasional witty comments to say to one another. Before the whole affair had started Arthur had even been kind to him. Not that it had affected them professionally, Alfred had only had to see him once in the past weeks to ask for a consult on behalf of another doctor and for once Arthur had looked at him for more than a second.

He didn’t like the way Arthur looked at him anymore. Doctor Kirkland never made himself open or clearly emotional, but there was something just slightly too stiff in his stance whenever he saw Alfred now, like he was pissed off with him or never wanted to see him again.

Alfred hated it.

He rolled onto his stomach, ignoring the clock blinking ’02:44’ at him and curling himself as best he could around his pillow. It felt hollow. That’s what it was. Like something was missing and left this gaping emptiness inside that had to constantly remind him it was there. Recounting the days probably didn’t help, though he’d done it to try and place the exact moment everything had changed – but he couldn’t. It just happened. Maybe Arthur did really just see him as some kind of fuck toy the whole time; why should he have seen Alfred as anything else?

He sighed in annoyance, turning over onto his back and pulling the pillow tight to his chest. He hated this feeling, he _hated_ it. Over and over he told himself that he was utterly unjustified in his feelings and mostly refused to accept them, but every time he thought of Arthur he either wanted to crawl away and hide or wrap him up tightly in his arms.

His mind kept drifting back to the second time – or third – he didn’t need to keep a proper score. But they’d shared a bunk just for five, maybe ten minutes. Arthur had been so gentle, he looked like he really cared and when they finished they’d spent far too long just kissing before their pagers went off for Alfred to justify just sex. But thinking about that didn’t help him. Whilst the thought of Arthur curled up in his arms again was sweet before to help him sleep, now it just made his heart clench painfully and drew him away from sleep once again.

Alfred told himself he couldn’t really be sad about it, not reasonably. It wasn’t as if they had been dating, not as if they’d broken up and he had reason to wallow in sadness. Only, it felt like that. It felt like some connection had been severed too soon and Alfred was finding himself increasingly looking longingly at the elder doctor as he had been doing for months prior, but it wasn’t the sex he missed.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair and searching lazily on the nightstand for his glasses. He couldn’t switch his mind off and thinking wasn’t doing him any good at all. With a sigh, he pushed himself up and out of the bed, throwing the covers haphazardly to the side as he moved across the room. His logic was that making himself a hot chocolate would help soothe his nerves and urge him to sleep, though the truth was he just needed something to occupy his mind.

He cracked open his door carefully, well aware that Matthew would be asleep and he didn’t want to risk waking his brother unnecessarily with noise. Crossing the apartment was no issue, it was a relatively new building and none of the floorboards creaked noticeably, it was just moving around the furniture in the dark that posed an issue.

He turned the counter light on when he reached the kitchen, beginning to search for the things he needed as quietly as he could. He knew the light really wouldn’t have bothered Matthew if he had turned every damn one in the apartment on, the man slept with his door closed and he was like a log until he had to get up. It was impressive really, the willpower to wake up when needed, Alfred wished he had that.

He’d grabbed milk and cocoa already, though he neglected to remember the haphazard way he’d stacked the pans in the cupboard and as he crouched down and opened it, they all fell with a loud crash.

“ _Shit_ —“ Alfred hissed, doing his best to catch them before they all dropped, but clanging pots and pans were loud no matter what one did and he merely ended up with a pile in his arms he couldn’t really do anything with. He froze, holding his breath as he listened out in the silence for any indication that Matthew had been woken up by his antics.

For a moment, the apartment remained still, just enough time for Alfred to breathe a sigh of relief under the impression that his elder brother was still fast asleep in his own bed. But of course, just as he was preparing to manoeuvre the pots and pans in his arms, he heard a thump and several stumbling footsteps. He shut his eyes tight, guilt and embarrassment washing over him with another muttered ‘ _Shit_ ’ before he looked behind him where Matthew was to appear.

True to form, his elder brother stumbled out of his room looking every bit as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Which he had, but he seemed almost like a character in a movie with the way his hair was tossed about and one of his pyjama legs halfway up his calf. The rapid blinking and unsteadiness didn’t help him either, but as soon as his eyes focused and he located the source of the noise, his squinting turned to an unimpressed frown.

“What the hell are you doing?” He grumbled, making his way across the flat towards his brother and Alfred gave up, collapsing to the floor from where he was crouched.

“I was trying to make a hot chocolate.” Alfred mumbled, looking at the ground. He felt very much like a small child trying to do something on their own for the first time, and he looked it too.

Matthew sighed, looking at the mess for a second before reaching out a hand to help Alfred up. “Come on, you big baby, I’m awake now you don’t need to worry about the noise.”  Alfred of course pouted at being called a baby, but he did accept the hand and pulled himself to his feet in no time.

They cleared up the pans, putting a pot on the stove to warm the milk (Extra, as Matthew demanded one for being woken up) and they stood beside the warmth of it in the quiet. Matthew had his eyes on Alfred, who in turn was only paying attention to his hot chocolate in progress. They’d always been particularly close. Though they were only half-brothers, they’d never thought the fact they had different mothers changed anything. But it meant they’d always been able to read each other and Alfred had been odd for a very long time now, Matthew was not the only one who was concerned.

“What’s going on?” He spoke up in the quiet, his voice soft and encouraging. Alfred had always admired that quality in his brother, he always sounded warm and reassuring – unless he wanted to be scary of course. He’d always felt like his voice was too brash and loud, he wasn’t very good at controlling himself.

Alfred looked up, hating the fact he knew what Matthew was referring to, but he’d been expecting it ever since his brother had stopped to help him with the pans. “It’s nothing-“

“Alfred-“

“Matthew.”

Alfred looked back at the other, his expression imploring. He did not want to spill every detail of what happened with Arthur to Matthew at three o’clock in the morning, it would’ve been emotional enough as it was, his sleep deprivation and the early hours weren’t going to help. The very fact Alfred looked so tired was precisely why Matthew wanted to press, particularly as Alfred had refused to answer questions for so long, but he knew whatever it was would only cause Alfred more upset if he had to voice it now.

Matthew sighed, stepping forward so he could pat Alfred’s shoulder. “Okay, fine.” He could feel Alfred relax under his hand, something that only furthered his worry, but he had no choice in the moment. “…But you know I’m here for you. Whatever it is, I’m on your side.”

Alfred fidgeted, shifting his weight and reaching for the cocoa for something to do. He was looking down, avoiding Matthew as he gave the little nod. It meant a lot, their quiet moments, when they weren’t bickering and throwing each other about like brothers did. He’d felt so—abandoned by everyone for so long it just felt nice to have the reassurance.

“…Lame.” He scoffed, mumbling as he sorted the drinks.

Matthew snorted, giving his brother a shove and soon they were both grinning. “Shut up and make me my drink, I don’t want to put up with you for this long.” Alfred simply laughed, but he pushed a mug towards his brother and shared a warm smile. “You’re gonna tell me I sound like mom again, but you need to sleep. You look like shit.”

“I don’t think mom would’ve said I look like shit—“ Alfred grinned, irritating his brother no end and earning him another shove that almost spilt his hot chocolate.

“You know what I meant.”

“I know, okay, I know.” Alfred sighed, shrugging vaguely as he started to head back to his room. “I’ll try.” He called back, over-dramatic and met with a laugh of Matthew’s own.

He didn’t succeed in sleeping well, but there was a warmer feeling to counter-act the pit deep in his stomach and that was good enough for one night.

* * *

 


	14. Chapter 14

_11th May, 20X5_

* * *

 

“Jones!”

Alfred snapped sharply to attention, nearly dropping the notepad he had been scribbling in – quite literally, it seemed, with a quick glance down he could make head nor tail of his own messy writing. If it could even be considered writing.

“ _Doctor_ _Jones!_ ” The voice repeated, making Alfred jump a second time and actually lift his eyes to Doctor Hedevary – who looked far from impressed. “I’m sorry, are we boring you? Interrupting your beauty sleep?”

“Wh- I- No-!” Alfred stammered out, though as he tried to defend himself his body betrayed him with a yawn and he could swear he saw genuine fire behind the resident’s eyes as she glared at him. He hadn’t thought he was that tired; it was only nine! Though after the late night conversation with Matthew added to a week of poor sleep, it was no surprise Alfred was dead on his feet. He’d been dosing off where he stood and though Chiara did her best to elbow him awake, it just wasn’t working. “I—“ He began again, red in the face with embarrassment – and fearing that Doctor Hedevary was about to tear him limb from limb.

“Go home, Doctor Jones.” Elizaveta began stiffly, cutting Alfred off when he opened his mouth to protest. “You’re walking around with your eyes closed, if you don’t get yourself hurt you’ll end up hurting one of our patients. Go home, sleep. There’s little for you to do today for you lot anyway.”

Further arguments caught in Alfred’s throat, barely catching a yawn with the intention to protect his dignity even just a little, though it would’ve made no difference at that point. Honestly, the idea of curling up in his bed was exceedingly tempting, going home and napping had never sounded so sweet. But even so, he felt guilty, abandoning his post without what he considered a real reason, abandoning patients. With a glance around at his fellow interns, he conceded with a sigh and a nod, still looking caught between tired and guilty.

“Okay. I mean, yes Doctor Hedevary.” He breathed, once again stifling a yawn if only to save face. Not that there was much left to save, Elizaveta looked unimpressed and concerned, he couldn’t even pretend he had any dignity to protect. She watched as he turned, shuffling more than walking down the hall and with his back to them making no more attempts to stop himself yawning.

The journey back to the intern locker room seemed so much longer than usual, probably because Alfred was walking much slower than he ordinarily would have. It was hard to keep his eyes open even then; he very nearly fell asleep in the lift without anything to occupy him, though the ding and jolt of it when it stopped startled him more awake. He rubbed at his eyes as he stepped out of the elevator, nearly knocking his glasses off in the movement but he seemed at least slightly more awake. But it didn’t seem as if anyone was paying attention to him as he moved slowly through the halls.

It was probably his exhausted mind, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Arthur – Doctor Kirkland, he reminded himself, a frown on his face that was more hurt than annoyed. For once it wasn’t the niggling, painful thoughts – or perhaps it was painful simply because it wasn’t the reminders, rather, the softer imaginings of a tired mind that showed him Arthur curled warm against him. He shook his head angrily, nearly hitting himself in the face with his locker door. He was certain Chiara would’ve laughed if she’d been around, but there was no one there to laugh at his own stupidity in the moment.

He frowned at the locker door, internally blaming the thin sheet of metal for his own clumsy mistake, though his eyes focused on a small sticky note pressed neatly to the inside. A to-do list – he remembered sticking it there at the beginning of the week, a few things to do like grocery shopping and going to the bank. He’d thought such things would have to wait until his next day off, though with time on his hands there was no reason he couldn’t take the bus further into the city and get those things done first. Yes, technically he was supposed to be sleeping, but Matthew would appreciate him doing the weekly shop and other adult things that he’d no longer have to nag his younger brother about.

He grabbed his bag, rifling through to check a few things and shovelling various items from his locker into it once he was happy it was all there. He was quite impressed with the speed with which he changed, only stumbling when his scrub top got caught around his shoulders (once again thankful for the fact he was alone in the room.). He grabbed his jacket, slinging that around his shoulders along with his bag before shoving his keys into the pocket of his jeans. He shut his locker, yawning into his hand and reminding himself to grab some coffee before he left.

* * *

Arthur’s day seemed determined to remain bland as it could possibly manage. He had no surgeries that day, though looking at the board with Francis that morning it seemed there weren’t many scheduled at all – not usual, but not unheard of. The closest he’d gotten was a last-minute question from one of his cardio surgeons on the bypass that was taking place at two o’clock and Arthur couldn’t deny he almost wanted to do the surgery himself.

It wasn’t as if he was doing nothing, he did have things to do – just, not _interesting_ things. He had to remind himself in his best authoritative voice that they were of course _important_ things, even if his current mind-set didn’t consider them as such. It wouldn’t do to be setting a bad example to the interns if any of them caught him complaining. In fact, it wouldn’t do for anyone (except, perhaps, Francis) to catch him whining and complaining about how bitterly boring his day was; he had a reputation to uphold. Besides, it was a good day, everything for once was running completely to schedule and honestly he was getting a fair amount of things done. He briefly considered sitting in the theatre for that two o’clock bypass, but quickly decided against it, he’d probably just set the surgeon on edge if his boss was watching him. He just couldn’t help wanting something more interesting to occupy his time than rounds and consults.

He’d never, of course, wish for something worse to befall one of the patients in the hospital, or anyone outside. His entire job was to keep such things from having a permanent effect as far as he could manage, he didn’t wish for harm to come to others. That was a foolish and selfish attitude and he’d seen more than one young doctor waltz in without due care for the human lives they were taking care of. Most of them had learnt – another had crashed and burned.

He almost wished he had his own little hoard of interns to teach and quiz as he went about his day, they could make the experience more lively. That was, _almost_ wished. They came with far too much stress and trouble than Arthur thought it worth, he was in fact quite glad he was head of a department, no matter the added stress of that job. Besides, if he had interns he may well have had to put up with Alfred far more often and the intern put a sour taste in his mouth at the moment. He had to shake his head to clear away the thoughts, frown resurfacing on his previously placid features to accompany his disgruntled sigh. He hadn’t even seen Alfred all day – not that he’d seen the lad so regularly as of recent – there was so little reason to still be plagued by thoughts of him.

“Doctor Kirkland!”

Arthur looked up from where he was leaning against the nurse’s station, closing the chart he’d been checking over and handing it back to the nurse.

“Doctor Williams.” He greeted, glancing behind the man to the small hoard of interns trailing dutifully behind him. No Jones in sight – excellent. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, actually, if you’re not busy.” Matthew glanced back at the young doctors behind him, looking somewhat anxious with a hand in the pocket of his lab-coat. Arthur felt a small twinge of apprehension as he noticed the little notebooks each of the interns had in their hands. What was he being roped into?

“Uhm—“ He glanced down at his watch, pulling a face before he answered with a small nod. “It’s alright, I’m fine for now, but I have half an hour at most.”

“That’s great, I’ve just been paged, it’s not too urgent but they’re supposed to be studying for now.” Doctor Williams looked back to him, a pleading look in his eyes. “I’ll be right back and they can head on to work, can you just – quiz them for a little bit or something?”

Arthur sighed quietly, resisting the urge to look completely unimpressed and disappointed; surely the interns had more productive things to be doing? But he liked Matthew and he trusted the man, so he conceded, not without a reluctant nod. “Alright. If I’m late to a meeting you’re getting the blame.”

“Yes, sure, of course. Thank you, Doctor Kirkland!” Matthew nodded, already heading off in the direction of the elevator before Arthur could think to protest. He wasn’t going to, of course, he could keep an eye on a handful of young doctors for thirty minutes, give or take.

He turned back to them, noting with a small amount of concern how Doctor Honda seemed unwilling to look him in the eye. Odd. But he wouldn’t question it. He crossed his arms, sighing again to himself as he looked over all of them, silent and waiting to be told what to do. “—I’m sure you’ve all been reading up on the more interesting or complicated things, sometimes looking for something bigger can make you miss a diagnosis. Just because the mole looks odd doesn’t mean it’s malignant, hm? Can you tell me the common name for Herpes Zoster?”

* * *

The ER, or the ‘pit’ as affectionately dubbed by the doctors and nurses in the hospital, was always busy – not surprising, after all, every part of the hospital was always busy in some way. But even on calmer days, it was constantly bustling with new arrivals, whether that was for broken bones or burn victims. Though, usually the staff weren’t lucky enough to have any particularly exciting cases come in, unless there was some high-stress situation wherein victims needed to be treated quickly. But sadly for eager, adrenaline-seeking young doctors, this was usually not the case.

Today had been no different, a full ER with broken bones or more unfortunate accidents, but in the middle of the week it wasn’t terribly bad. The nurses seemed quite proud of themselves for that day’s running smoothly, and Matthew commended them for it. He’d never liked the ER much, as a general surgeon he had more or less little to do with it than some other doctors; Ivan and Elizaveta ended up down there more often than he.

An elderly man had come in with severe abdominal pains and he’d been paged for a consult; he didn’t expect it to take much of his time, usually they had an idea already and just wanted a second opinion. Which was fair; abdominal pains were a symptom of a great many things, though Matthew didn’t yet know if there was more to it than that yet.

He was already in the ER when his pager went off again. He frowned; irritated as he assumed the doctor who’d called him was merely being impatient. He shoved his hand into his pocket to rummage around for the small device, but he found himself hesitating once he’d retrieved it. The little screen read ‘911’ and his frown deepened in confusion. Looking up, his eyes landed on the nurses’ station, frowns of concentration on all of their faces as they picked up phones and hastily wrote things down.

He’d never been in the ER when it happened, a major accident, something that required immediate attention of a large amount of staff. He’d been paged down before, yes, but standing there he found himself watching in slight fascination as nurses and doctors alike began to move less serious patients as quickly and calmly as possible out of the way to free up space for whoever the new patients were to be.

It took a gurney pushing past him to remind Matthew that he was actually needed and he rushed forward towards the nurse’s station just as Doctor Kirkland appeared in the doorway.

* * *

There were four ambulances on the way and there were going to be more. The unusually calm ER had suddenly become abuzz with tense energy, the nurses and doctors glancing anxiously to the ambulance doors as new doctors were paged to the floor and less important patients were moved to make way for the incoming traumas.

“Alright, people,” Arthur clapped his hands in front of the growing group of surgeons waiting before him, their faces too anxious either from worry about what they were about to be facing or excitement at the idea of these cases.

_“I need Hedevary, Williams and Wang— Yes there’s a head trauma— Well tell him this is an emergency.”_

_“Someone call Beilschmidt—“_

_“He’s right there.”_

_“No, the other one!”_

_“Someone page Doctor Bonnefoy.”_

“Don’t look at them, keep your eyes on me,” He clapped again, needing to get the information out as the distant sound of sirens reached his ears. “We have four patients coming in, all gunshot victims. Doctor Wang will take the head trauma with you,” He gestured to a part of the small crowd, looking backwards over his own shoulder as he continued to give instructions. “Vargas, Beilschmidt I want you with me. The rest of you, step out of the way and wait, more people will follow but these patients need to be seen to first, are we clear?” There was a mismatched hum as the not yet needed doctors parted, in time for the first ambulance to roll up and burst open its doors.

“Female, late thirties…” Doctor Wang rushed forward as the paramedics began lifting the gurney from the back, rushing the patient inside along with the medical staff assigned to the neurosurgeon.

Arthur noticed immediately the way the colour drained from some of the interns’ faces, but he had no time to reassure them as the next two ambulances were already getting their patients down from the back.

_“Male, fifty five, severe abdominal wound—“_

_“Mrs Keith, thirty, second trimester—“_

_“He stepped in front of me, I couldn’t help him, oh god, it wasn’t my fault—“_

_“Daughter, minor bleeding—“_

Doctor Bonnefoy ran in just in time to take the pregnant woman, the elder Beilschmidt close on his heels to scoop up the hysterical young teenager at her side and sweep them both into the ER. More Doctors poured forward to take care of each patient, all soon finding their way inside the hospital amidst groans and tense yelling as doctors diagnosed and ORs called to say they were clear for each case. Arthur turned to face the last ambulance, Chiara and Ludwig close at his side to meet their trauma, though he was glad to see no fear in either of their eyes despite the heavy bleeding of each of the last trauma patients that had been brought in.

The vehicle screeched to a stop, swerving slightly with the effort to turn in its speeding and Arthur rushed forward with his doctors to catch the doors and the patient as the back swung open.

“Male, early twenties, chest—“

The man groaned on the gurney as it was wheeled onto the ground, jolting his body along with the oxygen mask and padding that Chiara quickly took over applying pressure to as the paramedics handed him off. But she faltered.

“Doctor Kirkland—“

“—Cavity, no exit wound, possible collapsed lung—“

“Not now, Vargas-“

“No vomiting or obvious major artery damage but he’s lost a lot of blood,”

“Doctor Kirkland please—“

“Vargas! He needs an OR immediately, we can’t stabilise here.”

Arthur was busy, checking pulse and listening to the report as they ran with the gurney towards the elevator.

“Doctor Kirkland _please_ _look_ —“

It was only then that Arthur finally lifted his gaze from the examination of their patient, finally seeing more than just a hunk of human flesh that needed saving and following the terrified gaze of his most promising cardio intern to the face of the man under her hands.

Sky blue eyes peered over the rims of cracked glasses, a pair of terrifyingly familiar lips daring to grin weakly up at him as if there wasn’t a bullet hole in his chest.

“ _Alfred—“_


	15. Chapter 15

_11th May 20X5_

* * *

 

_“_ _A bank was held up today resulting in nine critical casualties—“_

_“There it is, get the bullet.”_

_“—One man is now in a coma—“_

_“Hang another bag—“_

_“Damnit—“_

_“—The attack came from bystander’s valiant attempts to stall for police arrival—“_

_“He’s crashing—“_

_“Doctor Kirkland—“_

_“—Now in police custody after—“_

_“Clear!”_

_“—No update yet on the status of the nine victims.“_

_“ **Clear!**_ ”

Hiding in the attending’s locker room was hardly a high point for Arthur’s pride.

He’d hate to call it hiding, but any argument that he wasn’t was only pure lies. He couldn’t face anyone; he couldn’t bare yet to look anyone in the eye and the fact he was still shaking didn’t help him to calm down. He’d been told before he should have become a trauma surgeon, the way he shut off everything and focused on an end goal. He’d been so focused and shut down in that OR; if he hadn’t been terrified out of his mind he may have believed them.

He kept thinking he shouldn’t have done the surgery – he was too emotionally invested, you weren’t supposed to do it if you were emotionally invested. But the patient was important to everyone in the hospital, everyone loved that intern. He couldn’t very well pass on such a high profile case to a less experienced surgeon, it just wouldn’t have been fair professionally, whether or not it made personal sense.

Chiara hadn’t been able to stay in the OR, she’d scrubbed in but she was crying silently even before they opened him up one of the nurses had to escort her out before he made the first incision. He’d never seen Chiara cry. He hadn’t seen much of Chiara actually at all, he didn’t know her that well, but she’d been there when he was scrubbing off and he’d had to put his arms around her to keep her from collapsing to the floor. Perhaps that was good, he could keep himself together if he was looking after another. He’d had to walk her to the intern locker room and pass her onto a friend before he could do anything for himself.  Even then he had a million other things to do. Alfred was not the only casualty.

Would it have been fine if another surgeon had taken the case? Would it have worked out if one of his other cardio experts had taken his place and done the surgery for him?

The question was constant on Arthur’s mind, seeming ludicrous and stupid with his obsession over it. Particularly as it didn’t matter; Alfred was alive.

* * *

They hadn’t told Matthew when Alfred came in. He’d been in surgery and interrupting it to upset one of their doctors would have done no one any good at all. Matthew of course didn’t see it that way, he’d nearly metaphorically shot the messenger. Luckily though, for the nurse and irony, he’d chosen instead to tear off in the direction of the room he’d been told his brother was in.

He was out of breath when he caught himself in the doorframe, nearly crashing into it as he skidded to a halt in front of the room. The door was open for him, giving him a hard frame to lean on as he caught his breath and looked wildly around the small space.

The room was so quiet, eerily so, heartbeat thudding in Matthew’s ears far faster than that only partially reassuring beep of the heart monitor. He looked so unfamiliarly delicate – Alfred – lying on the pillows, chest rising and falling like he could have been sleeping normally. If not for the gauze. It stood out so painfully white against his tan chest it was impossible to ignore the reality.

Matthew felt his throat close up painfully, lifting a hand to cover his mouth as tears welled in his eyes – caught between grief and relief.

“Matthew—“ He hadn’t noticed Kiku or Chiara. The shorter man looked stony, strained, as if he was trying desperately to hold himself together for everyone else. Chiara was in no such state, her eyes were red from crying and she had tissues curled up in her still shaking hands. “He hasn’t woken up yet.”

Matthew moved further into the room, slowly approaching his brother’s still body. He nodded stiffly, only in part hearing Kiku’s explanation that he’d only been out of surgery for a couple of hours. Alfred’s broken glasses were sitting on the side table, something unsettling about them, but Matthew wasn’t looking. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a croak escaped. He cleared his throat, slowly pulling his gaze away from Alfred to look at Kiku.

“H—How—“

Kiku’s eyes flickered to Alfred, pained, clearly containing the urge to break. “A girl- a witness said they- they shot the security guard and Alfred, he…” Kiku paused to swallow, glancing down at his hands. “He stepped forward to help him and they told him to stay put but he didn’t so they-“

“Fucking idiot.” Matthew spat angrily, looking back to Alfred. “Why does he have to-“

“You would’ve done the same.” Chiara spoke up, her voice unusually quiet and meek. “Any good doctor would.”

Matthew fell quiet, staring at Chiara who in turn was only staring at Alfred. Matthew turned his attention back slowly, fists clenching at his sides as he fought the urge to cry.

“—He’s fine Matthew. Doctor Kirkland did an amazing job.” Kiku was watching Matthew, but just as much as him, he was reassuring himself.

“Yeah…” The elder nodded absently, the word thick and stuck to his throat. “Yeah.” He repeated more determinedly, sniffing before looking over to the pair of interns again. “Where is Doctor Kirkland?”

Kiku made a non-committal gesture, glancing to Chiara.

“I haven’t seen him since after the surgery, but I’ve only been in here and the locker room.” She glanced up for once, eyes darting between Kiku and Matthew.

“He’s probably busy, there were other patients aside from Alfred.”

Matthew nodded again, curling his fingers around the rail of the cot. “Yeah. I’ll find him later…I just, I feel like I should thank him. You know?”

The other two nodded, following Matthew’s gaze as it returned once again to Alfred.

* * *

The hospital had been in a flurry of panicked activity ever since the first victim had arrived and even several hours later, that didn’t seem to have changed. Doctors and nurses were caught up in surgeries or admin work in finding names, rearranging procedures, calling family, insurance– normal things made that bit more complicated by a tragedy. Doctor Bonnefoy had been given the task of producing a statement on the status of the victims, which meant a whole lot of faffing about with needing updates from those still in surgery and getting full reports on those recovering. But, fortunately, it was all under control.

Well, as controlled as it could be once word spread about the status of a certain well-known intern. It wasn’t as if every staff member knew each other, but they knew names and those friendly with the intern had all been affected in one way or another. Varying degrees of course, mostly it was Matthew who had to deal with anyone coming to see him (only he, Chiara and Kiku had been excused from duty over the matter.). But that was just Alfred, there was hardly anyone in the hospital who had a poor opinion of him, whether or not they’d even met him.

Doctor Bonnefoy had certainly thought it was a good thing for morale when Alfred had opened his eyes several hours later.

It was late enough that everything had calmed down, most staff changing shifts or relaxing as they were finally free. Matthew had an entire rant planned to explain to Alfred how stupid and irresponsible he was, but of course the idiot just had to smile at him and everything was forgiven. As long as he promised never to do such a thing again. Doctor Hedevary had come with a card from the giftshop and a joking scolding about how he wouldn’t have been there if he’d just followed instructions and gone straight home. She didn’t appreciate Alfred’s counter that he was actually resting now.

Half the interns also came back to the hospital to come in and check on him, cards and flowers in hands and they’d all been ushered out far too soon for Alfred’s tastes by his brother and friends. But Chiara and Kiku had soon left as well with promises to drop by his room at their lunchtime the next day. Matthew had ruffled his hair and they spent another couple of hours just talking, with Alfred looking anxiously towards his door every ten minutes as if he was expecting another visitor. But none came.

Alfred couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so many people so happy to see him. He was sure there were birthday parties from his childhood that had as much affection, but this was surely different. Chiara had, in fact, yelled at him for being such an idiot and crashing twice, but she’d fallen quickly silent and looked on the verge of tears when he thanked her for saving his life. She insisted she did nothing and claimed it was all Doctor Kirkland’s doing – and for once the man’s name wasn’t accompanied by a painful twist in his chest. There was warmth, happiness, but a yearning Alfred couldn’t rid himself of for the rest of the day. He needed to see Arthur. But that was the issue.

He hadn’t. Arthur hadn’t come in once; he hadn’t even passed by the room as far as Alfred knew and he didn’t know if he was now genuinely busy or avoiding him. Matthew had said the doctor was busy when he noticed the way Alfred kept looking, shushing Alfred’s protests he wasn’t looking by dialling their parents so he could talk with them.

But Matthew too soon had to go and Alfred was left all alone, yawning and picking at his blankets despite instructions to ‘ _sleep, idiot_.’ He was sure if he wasn’t doped up on morphine he’d be in a far larger amount of pain than he was, for the moment he was only feeling mild discomfort. Physically that was, internally held far more of that yearning to see Arthur’s face again. He had so much to say, but as far as he knew Arthur had no intentions of coming to see him. He was probably already at home, everyone else was. He sighed to himself, leaning back against the pillows and trying to ignore the oddness of the situation, the flashbacks of the moments before the shot, the pain, blacking out, waking up. He could deal with that all in the morning.

\--It was rather ridiculously late when Arthur poked his head into Alfred’s room, a clock on the wall blinking some handful of minutes past one. He was doing his last rounds, or at least, he’d told himself that. Though he went over to check Alfred’s chest and vitals, the truth was, he was still worried. Perhaps that was why he’d left it so late, sneaking in when the lad was asleep so he wouldn’t have to deal with all of the baggage just yet.

“I was wondering if I was going to see you at all today.”

Alfred’s voice was creaky and dry, drawing Arthur’s attention away from his notes. He hadn’t expected him to be awake, let alone talk, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy to see those sky blues smiling at him.  It surprised him how reassuring it was to look into those eyes, that worry melting just a little as he stared back.

“You should be resting.” He chastised gently, finishing the words he was writing.

“I am resting.”

“Sleeping. You know what I meant.” He shot Alfred a look, but the lad just chuckled, wincing as he did.

They fell into a comfortable silence, Arthur’s pen scratching out letters and then the click and clatter as he put it and the chart away. He was still looking down when Alfred spoke.

“…I remembered you being the last thing I saw before blacking out.” Arthur looked up. Alfred hadn’t moved, eyes trained on Arthur with a softness that the elder didn’t know what to do with. “I was really glad when I saw you. I knew—I knew everything would be okay…”

“Alfred-“ Arthur spoke gently, his brow creasing in concern. Just the mention of that moment made Arthur’s heart clench uncomfortably.

“I just wanted to thank you-“

“Alfred-“

“I mean it.” Alfred ignored the interruption, tone only more firm as his eyes followed Arthur around the bed. “I wouldn’t be here now if-“

“Please.”

Arthur’s voice was so quiet Alfred barely caught it. But he hushed, aware of the pain on the elder’s face. Despite moving closer to the side of the bed, Arthur hadn’t looked at Alfred, his eyes cast down. They were quiet again, the machines hooked up to Alfred’s pulse counting the seconds.

“…I was scared half to death when I saw it was you.” Arthur began quietly, looking at Alfred but not his face. “Christ, Alfred I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

A warm hand slipped itself into Arthur’s and he tightened his grip instantly. “Arthur.”

“You can’t do that to me. Please. If you had- if-“

“Shh.” Alfred’s tone was gentle, the tables turning as Arthur found himself perched on the edge of the cot, forehead pressed to Alfred’s as those warm hands gripped reassuringly at his own. Arthur didn’t know at what point he’d allowed himself to let his guard down with Alfred. But after the past says there just seemed to be no reason to lie to one another. “But I didn’t. Don’t talk about that, don’t.”

Arthur bit his lip, squeezing at Alfred’s hands. “You can’t do that again, okay? I know it’s selfish but – but please just think about me. About this.”

Alfred’s eyes searched Arthur’s face until the elder looked up, something imploring and deep lying there in his eyes. “Okay.” He whispered the promise, one hand lifting to brush Arthur’s cheek. Neither of them really addressed what ‘ _this_ ’ was, but with everything else around, the awkwardness and discomfort of the past weeks just seemed to disappear. It only mattered that they were there, together.

Who lent in first was anyone’s guess, but lips met softly and lingered as long as time would allow. It was gentle, so much more innocent and soft than any other of their shared kisses until that point and yet so much more meaningful.

* * *

Arthur was lucky it was Francis who found him in the morning. He and Alfred had spent far too long talking gently about everything and nothing in particularly and sometime in the wee hours they’d fallen asleep. Arthur bent over in a chair, head on Alfred’s bed and Alfred’s hand gently cradled in his own. It was so sweet Francis almost didn’t have the will to disturb them, but more staff would be arriving soon and this was likely to spark more gossip then necessary. He was willing to let Arthur talk to him in his own time, but he doubted anyone else would be so kind.

He padded in quietly, shaking Arthur until the man awoke. It took the younger doctor a minute to get his bearings, and Francis granted him that.

“Go home, Arthur.”

The Brit’s brow furrowed over his groggy expression, turning his head to the still sleeping Alfred, but Francis beat him to it.

“He’ll be fine, you need proper rest and the hospital will start getting busy soon. Avoid the traffic.”

Some weak excuse died on the tip of Arthur’s tongue before it could make its way out, and he found himself reluctantly nodding with a sigh. “Give me a minute?” He asked, hand still locked with Alfred’s.

Francis smiled warmly, but there was something knowing that Arthur would’ve kicked him for if he’d been more awake. “Alright. But if I find you here in twenty minutes I’ll be forced to physically carry you home.” Arthur rolled his eyes, ignoring the Frenchman’s chuckle as he left the room – but he was kind enough to shut the door.

Arthur looked back to Alfred, so peaceful despite the hospital air around him. He gave another sigh that strayed into a groan, standing and stretching slowly to wake up a little. He looked at Alfred again. His dishevelled hair, the way his chest rose and fell – reassuringly even. He leant across, smoothing out the golden locks, but Alfred stirred before he could place a kiss.

“--’thur?” Came the mumble, drawing a smile from Arthur as Alfred blinked his eyes open.

“Here.” He whispered back, brushing his knuckle across Alfred’s cheek. Alfred seemed to relax, humming contently and tilting his head into Arthur’s hand. Arthur bit his lip, feeling positively cruel for his next words. “I’ve been ordered home.”

Alfred whined before Arthur could finish, an involuntary smirk appearing on his lips as the man’s arms reached sleepily to encircle his waist. It was a loose hold, just possible with Arthur leaning over him.

“I know, I know.” He kissed Alfred’s cheek, settling him a little despite a pout. “I’ll be in trouble if I don’t leave, I have to.” He cupped Alfred’s face, no longer content and more awake.

“Did you say you’re here to prescribe kisses?”

Arthur nearly snorted, letting his forehead bump Alfred’s and revelling in the way the younger man grinned. “I don’t think that’ll work. I’ll come see you later, okay?”

Alfred sighed, but he was awake enough to appreciate the need and he conceded with a reluctant nod. “Fine. But don’t spend all your day off here.”

Arthur nodded, saying nothing more as he leant to kiss Alfred instead. Though still soft, it was more self-aware than those few hours ago. They shared a few kisses, each lingering and eventually Arthur had to pull away, leading Alfred to pout again, but he let his arms drop to at least give Arthur the opportunity to go.

“I won’t, just as long as you get better.”

“But if I do that I won’t get you doting on me.” Alfred joked, grinning once again when Arthur rolled his eyes.

“The faster you get better the more kisses you can have.” Arthur shot back, rather effectively shutting Alfred up. He leant forward one more time, sharing just one more lingering kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

Alfred hummed, already leaning back and closing his eyes as Arthur left the room.


End file.
